What Runs Deeper
by RevealItAll
Summary: Hiei wants to believe, but peace is an illusion that he can't afford to buy into anymore. Sequel to Seven Days of Falling
1. Borne of Blood

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
>sequel to Seven Days of Falling<br>_

chapter one  
>"Borne of Blood"<em><br>_

* * *

><p>When Mukuro opened her eye, she had not a clue what time it might be, but that hardly mattered.<p>

At first she was confused, but confusion quickly melted into joy when she realized its source. Alongside her, an arm draped over her and characteristically warm, was Hiei. She leaned over to kiss his mouth, but stopped mid-motion.

Something wasn't right.

Mukuro glanced around quickly, but no one was there. She could have sworn she felt something on the edge of her mind.

Then she saw it. The door was slightly ajar.

Mukuro rolled silently out of bed, lightly—but quickly—moving across the floor until she reached the door, cracking it further and peering out into the hall.

No one was there. They had already gone.

"Damn it," she whispered to herself, shutting the door with agitation. The fact that some bastard would dare to sneak into her room didn't bother her so much as the fact that she happened to be so vulnerable when he chose to do so.

And she thought they might be safe. So much for that.

"Were you looking to accomplish something?" she heard across the room. "Or was it your intention to stand there like an idiot?"

"Someone came in," Mukuro answered sharply, allowing her voice to convey the threat rather than her eyes.

Some part of Mukuro was irrationally worried that if she looked at Hiei now, the realization of the little intimacy they had shared before would come racing back, disabling her and drawing her back to him, and as enticing as that notion seemed, she could not allow herself to relax knowing that someone could sneak in on them at any moment.

So instead, she dressed.

She might have said something more to Hiei but felt that that thought alone—that they were unsafe—was sufficient enough in explaining herself. And so she stepped out into the hallway, intent on solving the mystery before the day was done.

* * *

><p>For the first time in over a week, Hiei took time to dress himself. He adjusted his belts to the correct notches, meticulously re-wrapped the healing wound on his hand, put a pair of his own shoes on his feet. He had never spent any length of time in the bedroom Mukuro had assigned him when he first joined her ranks, but today he discovered a small closet containing several unworn black cloaks which he had not put there himself. He chose one and carefully folded a clean white scarf around his neck.<p>

Hiei liked being in control, and he relished this welcome semblance of it.

If what Mukuro said was true—that someone had entered her bedroom last night while they were asleep—it would mean that he hadn't the control that he thought.

That irritated him.

But Hiei didn't want to be irritated. He and Mukuro had established some degree of tranquility, and he wanted to hold onto that, not lose these feelings of security to the same vexation that seemed always to plague him.

Yet the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

He remembered that he had left his sword outside, but when he went to retrieve it in order to have the blade replaced, it was nowhere to be found. He even attempted to locate it with the aid of the Jagan but to no avail. Instead, he had to settle for a replacement that was far too large and bulky for his person.

And so, when Hiei found Mukuro standing near the entrance to the dining hall, speaking to a generically ugly pig-faced soldier, he did not have the patience to wait for her to finish the conversation.

"—and he suddenly got really angry, and I couldn't do anything in time to stop it," the demon was saying urgently.

Hiei stood next to Mukuro for three endless seconds of skull-crushing boredom before interrupting mid-sentence.

"Neither of us have time for your inconsequential babble," he said. "So why don't you carry your unfortunate hide out of my sight?"

"Hiei," Mukuro snapped, "I don't need your help dealing with my men." Then she crossed her arms. "It's nice to see you in something fitting."

Then she glanced briefly back at the demon who had been speaking to her, who was inching further away, and continued, "I'm hoping you have a good reason to interrupt."

"As a matter of fact," said Hiei, "An as-yet unidentified imbecile has stolen my sword."

The pig-faced creature with whom Mukuro had been conversing made some sort of odd choking noise and took a step back, and Hiei looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" he barked. "Was it _you_?"

"N-no!"

"If you know who was responsible, I demand to—"

"No! Look behind you!"

Immediately, Hiei and Mukuro whipped around, having been spared only a few seconds to comprehend the bizarreness of the scene unfolding. One of Mukuro's men was heading straight for them, face contorted in rage. His nonsensical battle cry filled the corridor as he ran, swinging a mace overhead, a murderous gleam in his eye.

A gaggle of soldiers tried to bring him down from behind but couldn't catch up in time.

"What the hell?" said Hiei, a split-second before the demon lunged at them, the weapon tearing down through the air.

A second, though, was more than enough time for Hiei and Mukuro to dodge the ill-intended strike, but the rage-blind demon turned his gaze on Mukuro and lunged for her again.

"Stop attacking me, subordinate!" she shouted at him. "I don't want to kill you!"

He foolishly did not listen, and again Mukuro dodged him, but this time she countered, thrusting her arm at him to silence his onslaught for good.

"Death must have been his intent, or else he lost his damn mind," Mukuro muttered, but Hiei was not nearly as focused on her words as he was on her person, and when she followed his gaze, she saw the crimson seeping into the cloth of her sleeve. That blow must have reopened the wound she had inflicted on herself during the battle with the cyborg, and now it was again gushing blood.

"Hell," she cursed, wrapping her metal hand around it to stem the flow, and as she began to walk away, she called back at him, "Hiei, get rid of that body, would you?"

Hiei waited until Mukuro had disappeared from his sight, then cast a downward glance at the bloody carcass before him.

"Hn, not likely," he said, then swiftly turned and set off in the other direction.

"B-but wait!"

"What?" Hiei snapped, looking back sharply at the stuttering, idiotic pig-faced fool behind him.

"You can't just leave that there after Lord Mukuro told you to—"

"If it bothers you so much," said Hiei, "Why don't _you_ dispose of it?"

"But I don't even—"

Hiei ignored the buzzing noise as it reached his ears, instead choosing to find his way out of the fortress, locate his favorite tree, and spend the latter part of the morning and into the afternoon napping in the warmth of the breeze that rustled the leaves on the branches around him. The sunlight in the Makai was by no means as bright or warm as the sunlight in human world could be, but it relaxed Hiei, and for just a while he was able to push from his mind the irritation he felt at having lost his sword.

When he finally re-entered the fortress, curious about the progress of Mukuro's silly little investigation, several hours had passed. He ventured through the familiar maze of halls, noting with some amusement that the corpse from before had indeed been removed without his help.

At first he almost overlooked the sound of fast-approaching footsteps behind him. It was not until the noise grew faster and nearer that warning bells began to ring in Hiei's head, and he turned just in time to slice through the middle of the soldier that had, apparently, been trying to attack him.

And disturbingly, from the steadily-growing rumble of footsteps nearby, it seemed others had gotten the same idea.


	2. Rest For The Wicked

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter two  
>"Rest For The Wicked"<em><br>_

* * *

><p>Things had been difficult and confusing enough for Kirin for a long time, but the attack had just been icing on top of the cake.<p>

In the beginning, it had all simply started with his replacement. At first Kirin was jealous—but with respect, because somehow that runt had managed to earn the position that Kirin had held for centuries and proved himself more suited to the role. And so Kirin made an effort to observe Hiei, to try to understand just _how_ he was more suited.

And then he realized that he didn't understand at all.

Hiei was far less than the ideal second-in-command. He certainly couldn't be called dutiful, he had a knack for smart-assery, and he could more often be found napping than doing any actual work.

Kirin was, for a moment, irrationally angry at Hiei before reason took over and reminded him of the most important fact of all: that Mukuro, despite Hiei's obvious lack of qualification, had appointed him as her second anyway.

Then he was simply angry at Mukuro, though still it didn't make any more sense. Why, when Kirin had served her so loyally for so many years, would she willingly choose an unruly whelp?

But as time passed, Kirin's anger ebbed when he discovered that little had actually changed. Mukuro treated him as no less of her second than she ever had—and it seemed Hiei was only second in title.

After much deliberation on this concept, Kirin came to a startling realization that he briefly felt guilty for not ever considering before: that somewhere along the line, his Lord's meaning of second-in-command had changed from "person I want to rule under me" to "person I want closest to me."

And then suddenly everything made sense.

From the outside it seemed obvious enough to everyone that the only reason Mukuro had chosen Hiei was for his power, but Kirin knew better than that. Despite power, Mukuro did not let people close to her that she did not trust to some extent—and those that threatened her were quickly disposed of.

Kirin had done less than his best to understand his Lord, and that—along with the fact that he was now not the most trusted—pained him. At the same time, the idea that Mukuro trusted Hiei so much gave Kirin the strange feeling that he ought to trust Hiei as well.

And so Kirin effectively continued his duties as he always had and everyone in the fortress accepted—though perhaps not quite understood—the turn of events. Kirin simply decided that since Mukuro was no longer a king, it didn't have to matter so much what titles they all held, and it was a thought that everyone seemed to adjust to now that they could enjoy being on level enough ground.

But when Mukuro and Hiei both took off without so much as telling anyone their destination and leaving everyone to speculate and gossip, Kirin had become the strongest and most capable apparition left to run the patrol and, consequently, defend the fortress. This was a moment in which Kirin was proud of, because he could prove to Mukuro both his loyalty and capability.

But this, to Kirin's annoyance and disappointment, was a slightly heftier task than he could deal with when several of their men were captured and held hostage. It had only been—mercifully—less than a week when Mukuro and Hiei returned, and the problem was quickly, albiet messily, solved.

But then the very next day Mukuro and Hiei had both been attacked by a stark-raving mad man of their own ranks, and Kirin could not suppress a sigh at that news. There was no telling what his Lord would think of his managerial skills now, and the blame would surely have nowhere but to fall on his own shoulders.

So much for proving himself capable.

To perhaps salvage what was left of his pride, Kirin decided he would take it upon himself to check up on all the men and ensure that they were performing their duties satisfactorily, and so he now found himself roaming the halls of the fortress, aiming first for the training areas so that he could have something of a talk with the men there.

When Kirin rounded the corner, he first caught sight of Hiei standing over a bloodied corpse, sword in hand, and was about to assume the worst when suddenly, on the opposite end of the hall, a group of armed men—their _own_ men—came from nowhere, their weapons fixed on Hiei.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, cursing his terrible luck and wondering what the hell was going on today as he sped up the hall to join Hiei and, if he could, stop the slaughter that now seemed imminent.

"Hiei," he called, "get back!" Kirin allowed a brief moment for Hiei to obey, or disobey, his request before he conjured a wall of black, energy-sapping smoke between them and the oncoming attackers, and the resulting coughs and startled cries he heard told him his efforts had at least bought them time.

"What's going on here?"

"How should I know what would have led this gaggle of worthless heathens to believe that blindly charging someone who is both their physical and intellectual superior was a good idea?" Hiei said pointedly. "Perhaps you ought to introduce to them to more painless methods of suicide. Or don't. I really don't care."

And then he turned to leave, willing to let Kirin handle the aftermath. How typical.

But then Kirin heard the all-too-familiar splitting sound and sensed the fizzle of power that signaled his smog barrier had been broken through, and Hiei whipped back around to raise his sword in preparation to slaughter whoever came at him like the simple-minded brute he was.

Kirin would have to think fast. Unless he did, it was likely everyone on the other side of the smoke would be killed without a chance to explain himself.

Kirin darted ahead, balling his fist and slinging it into the face of the first attacker. Not only would he have the sight advantage, but it seemed none of them were aiming for Kirin at all—they seemed intent on harming Hiei alone.

As Kirin continued throwing his fists and wrestling weapons away, he called to Hiei, "Are you sure you didn't do anything to piss them off?"

"Are you sure you're not failing to acknowledge the idiocy of fools?" Hiei shot back.

As weapons began falling to the floor in a clatter, three of the attacking demons managed to stumble past their falling companions toward Hiei, and he casually sliced through each of them.

By this point, Kirin had actually managed to get the group of soldiers under control, most of them struggling to remain on their feet or having already fallen.

Seeing that his intended path was now clear, Hiei stowed his sword and began to stroll past the pile of weapons and groaning men when one of them somehow managed to stagger into his path. He easily avoided the punch that was sloppily thrown at his face and planted his own fist firmly in his attacker's gut, sending the demon inelegantly to the ground.

"What the fuck," he said, not bothering to phrase it as a question, and Kirin watched him disappear down another corridor—to Mukuro's room, if he had to guess.

At least only three of these guys were dead—the rest were disabled and disarmed. It could be worse, Kirin supposed. But it still didn't make sense.

In an attempt to clear up the situation, Kirin lifted one of the men he'd struck up from the ground by his shirt and demanded, "Why'd you attack Hiei?"

Instead of a coherent answer, Kirin instead got a gurgle that he assumed was meant to be a growl and a very ineffective punch that he easily dodged, and dropped the man back to the ground.

It seemed like fate didn't feel like making things any easier for Kirin lately.

* * *

><p>Hiei busted into Mukuro's room without preamble and found her lying on her bed, presumably having been asleep.<p>

But any notions of social etiquette were far from Hiei's mind as he began to tell her about just what bumbling buffoons the idiots in her employ had proven themselves to be.

"A large group of your men attempted to maul me a short time ago," he began, then added, "Unsuccessfully, of course."

Mukuro merely blinked groggily at him, and so he continued on.

"I don't know why you bother with them," he said. "It is obvious that their mental capacities do not exceed that of a small rodent or perhaps a flea, and unless today has all been some sort of morbid joke at their expense, they are suicidal as well. I fail to see how either of those qualities makes them suitable warriors or allies. But in the likely event that you do not exercise your rationality and decide to keep them here anyway, I would recommend providing them with chores or some sort of child's game for which to occupy their time, because as much as I enjoy slaughtering hoards of foolish simpletons, I would also like to keep the privilege of walking through the halls of this fortress without having my time wasted by petty, half-assed assaults."

Having a hard time believing anyone could not be swayed by that sort of logic, Hiei waited silently for Mukuro's response.

"What?" she said.

There was a moment in which Hiei stared dumbly back at her, that one-word question having wrecked his entire thought process. "'_What_?'" he repeated disbelievingly.

Hiei suddenly had a headache.

"If this is a poor attempt at humor, I am not impressed," he said, and when she neither confirmed nor denied it, he decided that it must be true, because she would have been just as delusional as her idiot peons if she thought he was going to repeat all of that.

But before he could yell at her, he caught himself and instead ground out, "I suppose your little investigation was a success."

* * *

><p>Mukuro had finally taken to her room after long hours of interviewing men with plans to get at least a reasonable amount of sleep despite having turned up nothing to help quell her paranoia.<p>

And so when Hiei barged in, she inevitably awoke, irritated at being disturbed and especially irritated because it was only him, and he immediately launched into a speech that was nothing but a vague drone in her ears and she found herself staring at him dazedly, feeling an odd stirring in her belly accompanying a desire that he would quit speaking to her and come lay with her instead.

Then suddenly he had finished talking, and at that point she realized all she could do was ask what that had been about.

It didn't work.

_"If this is a poor attempt at humor, I am not impressed."_

No, she simply hadn't heard him. Maybe she really was exhausted. . . .

_"I suppose your little investigation was a success."_

Mukuro shifted on the bed. "No. I don't know who came into the room last night, but something isn't right. Several," she yawned, "of my men have been acting strangely. I guess it's possible that the guys who tried to take over the fortress put some dumb ideas in their heads or something."

She looked at him again and the longing that he would quit bitching and come to her returned. She just wanted to lie there . . . pressed up against . . . digging into—

Mukuro buried her face into her pillow, attempting to dispel the thoughts as they came, now even _more_ irritated.

"Did you want something in particular or did you just want to stand there and make it hard for me to sleep?"

The room was silent for a moment.

"Hn, fine," she heard him say. "Just try not to lie around all day."

* * *

><p>The following afternoon, he returned to Mukuro's chamber after just having been attacked by another round of her men. The behemoth hadn't been around to mediate the situation this time, and so Hiei had ended up killing at least five of the bastards before he made his escape.<p>

Hiei was aware that killing one's own allies was not considered acceptable behavior, but their intent did seem to be to end _his _life. Besides, he had still not found his sword, and the larger one he carried with him now was much more difficult to control. It was far simpler to just end their lives with it than to find ways to temporarily incapacitate them.

Considering the mayhem overtaking her ranks, Hiei expected Mukuro to be on her feet and prepared to handle the situation, but to his dismay, he found her in the same place he had left her the day before—in bed, her eye closed. He could not tell if she was asleep or not, but he did not really care.

"You've been lying there since yesterday, haven't you?" he said accusingly. "Are your legs broken or is the thought of me skinning and roasting all your subordinates really that boring to you?"

She opened her eye, glared at him for a split second, then shut it again and ignored him altogether. He promptly scowled and decided it wasn't worth another failed attempt at speech with her.

* * *

><p>Kirin had managed to confine those men he had knocked out yesterday into a room of their own until he could get a rational explanation out of them—or at least further instructions from Mukuro, but it seemed that since yesterday she had not even come out of her room at all. In such instances, and especially in these circumstances, Kirin was not apt to test her, no matter how much he wished he could speak with her.<p>

So he was left doing only what he knew to do—investigate the situation as best he could and hope he could sort it out on his own.

He asked one of the men he was more familiar with, Susumu, if he knew anything about what was going on, and was only met with irritation.

"Don't fucking ask me," Susumu snapped. "I think you should quit wasting your time."

Some similar discourse told Kirin that his efforts were going nowhere fast.

* * *

><p>"You <em>must<em> be joking," were the first words out of Hiei's mouth when he found Mukuro still lounging in bed a day later. This time, rather than attempting to verbally rouse her through insults and promises of homicide, he approached her bed and peered down at her, frowning.

She appeared to truly be dozing—her eye shut, her chest rising and falling with each soft breath. Mukuro's body, however, was caught amidst a tangle of blankets, indicating to him that her sleep had not always been as peaceful as it was now. Her flesh arm lay splayed off to the side, the self-inflicted gash along the length of pale, delicate skin not yet completely healed.

For a second, Hiei felt a mysterious pang of guilt at having ever intended to wake her, but the feeling was swiftly snuffed out. The fortress was _her_ responsibility, and he at least expected a little effort out of her, especially after he himself had been putting so much effort into not obliterating the entire facility.

And he _still _hadn't found his sword.

"Get up," he commanded, grasping her shoulder. Then he noticed the sheen of sweat coating her face. "Are you ill?"

Mukuro opened her eye, but just barely, and closed it almost immediately.

"Mm . . . no." She laid her hand on his and leaned into his arm, rubbing her face against the sleeve of his cloak, and Hiei allowed it, too confused to think of pulling away.

Soon she had stopped moving again, presumably having drifted back into sleep, and at this point he removed his hand and quietly left her to rest.

* * *

><p>Today Kirin had to lock Susumu in the room.<p>

He hadn't been expecting the attack, and surely not from Susumu. Maybe the guy could be irritable but he surely wasn't irrational. But today had proved him wrong.

There was no telling what was going on now, and it had begun to seriously worry Kirin. He had to find Hiei. That was his best bet at reaching Mukuro.

* * *

><p>Hiei's arm tingled pleasantly as he made his way down the corridor. Perhaps this ordeal would work itself out without her help. And maybe if she had less men to deal with at the end of it, her job would be easier. Maybe—<p>

"Hiei."

He turned, his expression souring at what he saw.

Presumably the pair of legs and torso standing there were attached to a head, but Hiei did not bother to look up at it. Instead he continued to walk, hoping that he wouldn't be followed and inwardly groaning when a large shadow fell over him and equally large footsteps fell into stride beside him.

"What do you want?" Hiei snapped. "And make it quick, I'm busy."

"I locked the guys that attacked you in a room," he summarized. "But things are just getting worse. I keep having to stick more of them in there. Something strange is going on, and we need Lord Mukuro."

Before Hiei could remark, he continued, "And since she's been in her room, you're the only one that can speak to her."

"You have a brain, don't you?" asked Hiei. "Surely you're capable of dealing with a bunch of worthless heathens by yourself. Now _leave me alone_."

Hiei was just about to pick up pace in order to lose him when another of Mukuro's soldiers, a deranged look about it and saliva glistening on its jaw, stumbled from the adjacent hall and fell flat on its stomach several feet in front of them. They both stopped and watched as it made one weak attempt to climb to its feet before collapsing completely and falling silent.

Hiei groaned, aloud this time.

The lumbering fool crossed his arms smugly. "That's exactly what I mean."

"Hn, they've always acted this way," Hiei said. "It's not my fault that you've been too unobservant to notice until now."

He strode past, but the demon on the floor suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of his ankle, making some sort of filthy gurgling noise as it looked up at him with distant, tired eyes.

It took all of his self control not to kick its face in.

With a frustrated snarl, Hiei freed his foot and stepped away from the pathetic creature. The truth was that he was at a loss. He couldn't make Mukuro deal with this until she was ready, and Hiei had no idea when that would be.

"Mukuro is sleeping," he finally said, staring at the lifeless body on the floor.

After a pause, the behemoth finally said, "Just do what you can," then picked up the still man with a sigh and walked away.

—.—

The halls were quieter when Hiei visited Mukuro the next day, and he hoped that it was because she had gotten her act together and resolved all the chaos amongst her ranks overnight.

He was disappointed at what he found.

Mukuro was still in bed, though both her eyes were open.

But even after Hiei walked into plain view, she did not look at him, only stared dazedly off at the far wall, a distant expression on her face.

He sighed. "Since my mental and physical well-being is not enough incentive for you to get out of bed, you should know that over half your men have gone certifiably insane and the bald mammoth is tired of looking after them," Hiei said. "He would appreciate it if you stopped being a lazy whore."

"I'm cold," she said in return. Then, "Hey, get me a blanket."

For the second time in recent days, something Mukuro said had completely shattered Hiei's thoughts.

What was worse was the abundant clarity that she was being utterly serious.

He scowled at her. "Get your own damn blanket."

Mukuro frowned but didn't miss a beat. "Come here and lay with me, then."

"And encourage your disgraceful behavior?" asked Hiei, something about the tone of her voice having irritated him further. "It's clear that you are well enough to walk, so stop being difficult, get up off your ass, and deal with your responsibilities. After that, you can piddle away the next thousand years lying around, for all I care."

"Fine, then. Go away. I'm tired." Mukuro turned back into her blankets, obviously intent on ignoring all further attempts at conversation.

As if that would work.


	3. Rise and Decline

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter three  
>"Rise and Decline"<p>

* * *

><p>A couple of the men got out today when Kirin was bringing them food.<p>

It was becoming more than he could handle without seriously considering killing them all.

He had managed to recapture one of them so far but there was no telling where the other had run off to, and no telling what he was doing there, either.

If Hiei wasn't so useless, then this—whatever this was—would be much easier.

* * *

><p>Hiei didn't care how tired Mukuro claimed she was, he would not be ordered around and then dismissed like a brainless servant.<p>

"I said _get up_!" he snapped, and with an enraged snarl tore his sword from its sheath. In the next instant, he was standing over her on the bed, driving the tip of the blade downward toward her head.

She rolled out of the way and threw herself upright, snatching Hiei's throat in her hand and flinging him in one powerful motion, and he met impact with the wall.

Hiei climbed somewhat unsteadily from the pile of debris, then coughed and swallowed, touching a hand to his throat.

"Don't be stupid. I'm going to do what I want."

Mukuro just stood there on her bed, stretching languidly, and he glared at her, more enraged than before.

Deciding that he was going to end this once and for all, Hiei concentrated a small, dark flame of energy into his right hand and hurled it.

Mukuro's bed promptly exploded in a mass of fabric, stuffing, and embers.

"Not today, bitch," he said as the smoke cleared, immensely pleased with himself.

Mukuro roared and ran through the flames at him, but even as she proceeded to beat him, Hiei felt a great sense of accomplishment.

She was out of bed. He had won.

But of course he had won, he thought as Mukuro's fist smashed again and again into his face. He tried to knee her in the stomach but was too disoriented to actually know if the hit connected. It took him several minutes to realize she had stopped, and several more to come to the conclusion that she had left.

Of course he had won, he thought again as he lay numbly on the floor. Then he decided it was time for a nap, and closed his eyes.

Hiei never accepted anything less than victory.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, the missing man had somehow wandered all the way to the other end of the fortress, and it was not until Kirin went to eat that he discovered the wayward demon, stumbling about the entrance of the dining hall. Almost certainly the reason he looked so lost was that Hiei—predictably—was still nowhere to be found, and the corridors had become hauntingly devoid of regular activity anyway.<p>

Kirin easily apprehended the soldier and locked him in the room with the others, and he had just turned around when he spotted a most welcome sight rounding the corner up ahead.

"My Lord!" he exclaimed, going toward her. "I am thankful you're here. Are you aware of what's been happening? A large number of your ranks have been acting uncontrollably violent for no reason; I've locked them in there"—he gestured at the door—"for the time being, but without your wise counsel, I am unsure as to what course of action should be taken next."

She stared at him for a moment, and then waved her hand. "What are you doing? Let them out."

Kirin stared at her, dumbfounded.

"But Lord Mukuro, are you sure that would be a good idea? They're a danger to themselves and others in their current mindset, and allowed to roam free, I can't imagine what might take place."

He almost asked her why her hands and sleeves were bloody, since he was quite certain Hiei said she had been sleeping, but decided that it was a question better left for another time.

"They're _my_ men!" Mukuro barked. "Let them out!"

She smiled just slightly when he finally did as she commanded, but her expression soon changed upon spotting the men inside.

"Get back to your work!" Then she rounded on Kirin. "Don't _ever_ lock them up again."

"Of course not," Kirin agreed quickly, concerned at the strange look in her eye, and he continued to concern himself over it even after she had left, her men in tow. He walked away wondering what would happen now that Mukuro was not condoning the isolation of her delinquent soldiers.

Kirin passed Hiei a short time later, disheveled, bruised, and blood-smeared, and it suddenly clicked in his brain that the blood staining Mukuro's hands must have been Hiei's.

Whatever had transpired between the two of them surely was at the root of Mukuro's irritability.

"Hiei, what—"

"Yes, yes, I woke her up," he interrupted. "Are you satisfied now?"

Kirin felt a fleeting guilt at Hiei's condition, and at the fact that his efforts might have been in vain anyway.

"She seemed . . . off," he decided.

"Hn."

"Did she say anything to you?" Kirin continued as Hiei walked past him.

"Fuck off."

Kirin hesitated. "No, I meant about whether something was wrong or if there was a reason that she doesn't want me to keep her men lock—"

"No, you imbecile," Hiei snapped, turning on him. "I am not in the mood for chit-chat at the moment and even if I was, you are at the bottom of the list of people I would ever want to engage in conversation with, so _fuck off_."

Kirin frowned, trying to think of a suitable response, but Hiei was already walking away. Kirin thought about warning him against heading in that direction, since that was where most of the men he had released had gone, but kept silent.

Maybe it would be fair if Hiei could never walk peacefully through the halls again.

That little bastard.


	4. Three Words

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter four  
>"Three Words"<p>

* * *

><p>Her men needed to resume their normal duties—to regain their strength, and spread that strength and will to the others. So Mukuro saw for a while that they did just that: they ate and they trained and she showed to them new methods of attack.<p>

Hiei had still been alive after their fight earlier, she reflected, so that was probably good. Maybe the beating taught him a lesson and he would be more agreeable later. She had the strange desire to be close to him again, but he had been far too injured then to be useful at all.

But Mukuro was tired again, anyway. She hadn't fully rested and the strain of work was reminding her of that. She needed to sleep more.

Her bed was gone, though. Damn Hiei. But he never used his bed, so she could easily just relocate and it wasn't as if he could say anything about the matter. She wasn't sure if she had enough patience to allow another bed-burning, though.

It was dark when Mukuro found herself in Hiei's room, and it was as undisturbed as she had expected it to be. The bed was somewhat stiff from disuse but there was nothing particularly wrong with it, and she curled up in it, prepared to finally get the rest that had been so rudely ripped away from her.

* * *

><p>It was late when Hiei entered Mukuro's room and remembered that he had destroyed her bed. For a moment he felt pride, then a strange sort of loss.<p>

He had never willingly shared a bed with anyone like he had with her, and knowing that spot was desecrated created a small empty hole inside of him.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But Hiei was still bruised from her punches, and that made it matter more.

The halls were quiet. He didn't know if that was because things had finally returned to normal or if everyone was too exhausted from a day of training to want to assault him.

He found Mukuro in another room, curled up in bed, and he watched her for a time before shedding his cloak and shoes and joining her, his back to hers.

Hiei didn't understand how someone who had slept for three days straight could want to sleep more, but he was too tired to question it.

Yet she must have heard him enter—must have, because she shifted behind him on the mattress, and the next moment, her body was pushed against his back, her arms sliding around him.

His eyes snapped open.

Her mood must have improved—that was the most he could think on before her hands found their way beneath his shirt, and the feeling of warm metal and flesh on his bare skin made something in his stomach flutter.

When Mukuro's lips ghosted over the back of his neck, Hiei turned. Their mouths met, and he draped one arm over her hip, the nearness of her igniting an irrational need for him to fall asleep in her embrace.

Mukuro snuggled into him, and Hiei sighed, an imperceptible smile hinting on his features while her lips and nose moved downward over his face until the top of her hair was tickling his chin.

The room was quiet, her movements all that he could hear in the darkness.

Then he felt her breathing pause.

"I love you." It was the softest he had ever heard her, and he did not know what to think of it before she was nuzzling into this throat, the same throat she had so harshly gripped earlier that day, but that was not what made him stop.

They had endured worse spats than the one that morning and recovered in shorter spaces of time. This should have been commonplace, but her words were far from common.

Hiei could feel his blood heating, his body gone mysteriously numb. "What did you just say?" he asked.

But rather than repeat herself, Mukuro gave him a kiss, continuing to touch him, and past his reeling thoughts, Hiei found his own hands mirroring hers, finding the edge of her shirt and the softness of her navel beneath it.

He was not sure he _wanted _her to say it again.

Through the darkness there was a rustle of fabric. Then Hiei inhaled sharply as Mukuro suddenly and completely melded herself to him, mouth flirting with his in an almost delicate way, but the increasingly insistent exploration of her hands suggesting much, much more.

His shirt had now been pushed all the way up to his chest, and her hands worked at the material, clearly intent on removing it entirely. Hiei could feel each rough and supple detail of her bare torso as she seemed to make every effort to press herself as close to him as possible.

Her tummy, slender and smooth . . .

Her chest, lifting before every sigh . . .

Her scars, making friction like sandpaper . . .

Her breast . . .

_I love you._

Her voice repeated itself in his head, and Hiei couldn't breathe.

He sat up, pushing her away.

"Hiei," she whispered through the darkness, still and inviting, but he could not bring himself to look at her.

Her fingertips brushed his arm, and he let out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his body quivering from the pressure building up inside of him.

He knew what Mukuro wanted from him now, and beneath it all, Hiei felt deeply that it was something he wanted, too.

But he just couldn't . . . couldn't . . . _think._

And because he didn't know what to do, Hiei did the only thing he knew: He rose from bed, donned his shoes and cloak, and left without a word.

* * *

><p>He had left her with nothing.<p>

Alone.

_Damn._

Mukuro clung to the bed, swallowing down the emotions that rose in her throat, the whole confusing mass of them, until she settled on the one that made the most sense: anger.

She was angry at him for leaving her. For ending what they had.

But it would be fine. She could put it all to use tomorrow, and Hiei would regret getting in her way then.


	5. Risky Business

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter five  
>"Risky Business"<p>

* * *

><p>When he re-entered the fortress the following morning, Hiei was weary from lack of sleep and frazzled from thinking too much. The moment he saw the behemoth coming toward him down the hall, he made an abrupt right turn into one of Mukuro's training rooms, thinking on a whim that it might be a decent place for him to take a quick nap.<p>

He was surprised and disappointed to find it occupied by about a dozen demons in the midst of a training session, and the moment he heard Mukuro's voice above the sounds of combat, he was torn between wanting to stay with her and the sharp, irrational fear in his heart that advised him to stay away.

He was about to turn to leave when, all of a sudden, his senses tingled, and he stepped aside just in time to dodge the demon who had just thrown itself at him from behind.

The creature tumbled to the ground in front of him and, rather than ceasing its attack, caught its balance again and turned on him, charging again with a familiar feral glint in its eye.

Hiei disengaged it easily with a swift dodge and a blow to the back of the head, but that was not the end of it.

Before he knew it, the other men in the room were attacking in a similar fashion, seemingly oblivious to all else besides Hiei.

"Stop!" Mukuro suddenly shouted, and they obeyed her somewhat awkwardly.

Their eyes met and he saw hers widening, the corners of her lips twitching just barely.

"Now," she purred, "I'm going to show you what I mean when I tell you to _fight_!"

Mukuro leaped at him, and rather than move out of the way, Hiei allowed her to tackle him to the ground, the static charge of her raw energy making all the hair on his body stand on end.

He needed her to hit him now.

And she did hit him, her glowing fists slamming into his body until he had tired of it, his own hands heating with power as he threw her off.

Hiei was on his feet in an instant, licking the blood from his busted lip.

He tossed his cloak aside.

"Prepare yourself," he said. And then he ran at her.

She avoided him, tossing him a hit in return. But he wasn't willing to relent, and due to whatever blind luck he had he managed to break through her guard, knocking her away from him painfully, likely for them both.

She came at him then, and they alternated, attempting to take advantage of the other's weaknesses they both knew so well. As their sparring grew more heated, Hiei felt the fatigue setting in, the damage she had inflicted on him yesterday—left unhealed due to lack of sleep—seeping into his bones, weighting his muscles.

But he would not surrender.

She moved fast, and he moved with her, each connected blow not enough to stop their bloody dance as they darted across the floor.

This was the Mukuro that he knew best, the hard-hitting, quick-witted adversary who could handle anything. But last night—that tender, hungry thing that had so insistently pushed herself onto him was Mukuro as well. And somehow he had to wrap his mind around the idea that the mouth now twisted into an angry snarl was the same one that had so sweetly kissed his own and uttered words he had never expected or wanted to hear from anyone.

This had never been a problem before. But she had frightened him.

Hiei dodged a potentially crucial hit, but Mukuro's next blow sent him face-first into the floor.

It was quiet for a moment until finally Hiei gathered enough strength to stand. He probably wouldn't be able to land any more punches; he was too tired. But he would continue until she was satisfied.

She stood watching him from nearby, and he faced her.

"Is that all?" he asked, his breathing heavy. "Or do you want more?"

"Shut up!"

She walked toward him, snatching his shirt in her hand and consequently smearing his own blood on it. "Shut your _mouth_!" she screamed, and then she hurled him out of the room, where he slammed into a wall for the second time in the past two days.

Mukuro followed him into the hall, lifting his battered body from the ground and pressing it against the wall. "Is it funny to you?" she murmured. Then, more gently, "Do you think I need this?"

Her lips skirted his ear, her voice maliciously low in a way that delighted the very core of him.

Hiei was far from amused.

If this was not what either of them needed, then their time together would be rendered as pointless as everything else before it.

Dragging his bleeding lips over her cheek, he sighed onto her skin and whispered, in turn, in her own ear.

"If not this," he said, "then what is it that you need?"

Mukuro pulled away, her mouth just barely grazing his bloody lips, and then her tongue darted out to sweep over them.

She hummed, "Every bit of you."

Hiei could smell the want on her breath. The intensity of Mukuro's gaze was enough to silence each and every voice in his head. He stared unwaveringly into her eyes, running his tongue across his lips as he did, savoring the taste of her.

"Is that a proposition?" he asked, the quiet rumble of his voice sounding almost like a growl.

Mukuro's hands released his clothing and slid to his shoulders, up his neck, into his hair.

"It's much more than that," she replied.

Her lips claimed his hungrily, one of her legs lifting from the floor as she ground herself against him and moaned into his mouth. The sound reverberated all the way through his tired body, and Hiei could hardly control the stirring in his belly or the flush of arousal that heated his skin.

Mukuro had never exhibited such forwardness before, and she was moving so quickly now that he could do nothing else but bask in disbelief and wonderment at how easily she could make him feel so many different things with such intensity.

If she had been wanting this so badly, she had done an impressive job of hiding it from him.

As the pressure between their hips increased, Hiei groaned into her mouth, deepening the kiss and dragging his hands along the curve of her torso, his thumb grazing her breast.

Then, over Mukuro's shoulder, he caught sight of several of her men looking back at them through the doorway to the training room.

Breaking away from her kisses completely, he shouted, "What the hell do you want? Get out of my sight!" at the cluster of onlookers, but they frustratingly did not leave.

Mukuro had noticed them now as well, and she turned her head, growling at the group of men that stared at them.

Then she snatched Hiei's wrist and pulled him down the hall, stepping into the first empty room she found, and the moment they were both inside, she slammed the door behind them and pressed herself to him again.

They moved blindly, clumsily, through the room, clutching, touching, and kissing. With each passing second, Hiei become more and more engulfed by the sensations sparked by her as she wound him up further with her body.

Her hand ventured boldly inside his pants, and his fingers dug into her waist, excitement brimming at the thought of feeling her there.

Hiei's hands flew to his waistband, and it was then that he tumbled backward onto something soft yet firm—a bed, he realized—and Mukuro fell on top of him.

Awareness took over, and suddenly Hiei had stopped moving, frozen by the sickening fear and confusion that consumed him as he remembered what she had said to him the last time they had lain together.

A small, choked noise left Hiei's throat as he felt Mukuro begin to unclasp his belts, smothering him with kisses as she did.

Again, he sat up. Again, he pushed her off of him.

He couldn't enjoy being with her until this was resolved.

But he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't even know what the fuck was the matter with him.

Hiei turned to her, her shoulders grasped firmly in his hands as he held her at arms' length. "Mukuro," he said, but did not know how to finish the thought, and so merely look at her imploringly.

Maybe she would understand. Maybe, somehow, she could make it better.

Mukuro only stared at him blankly for a moment.

"What!" she cried out.

Hiei almost flinched, and then internally berated himself for it.

She was glaring at him, and he felt ashamed because it seemed that he couldn't control his feelings for long enough to give her what she wanted. Now she was angry, and it pained him.

He was an idiot for letting this affect him. He didn't want to feel so vulnerable in the face of this uncertainty. And so his expression hardened into a scowl, its chill the product of a lifetime spent hiding his feelings.

"Nothing," Hiei said, releasing her.

Then he rose from the bed and left.

—.—

After an impassioned session of tree-hacking, Hiei had realized how he needed to deal with this.

No longer would he be a slave to something so petty as his emotions.

He was going to tackle this head-on.

He slept. He ate.

And the next day, an air of determination about him, Hiei stalked outside to where Mukuro's retarded slave-monkeys were beating each other's putty-filled skulls. It didn't take him long to find Mukuro and when he did, he immediately bolted toward her, tackling her to the ground and pinning her on her back.

"We're doing this," he informed her, hands roaming purposefully over her chest to emphasize the point. "And we're doing it _now_."

He then proceeded to ravage her mouth with his tongue, and when he broke the kiss—

"Fuck me," she breathed, low and desperate.

Hiei froze.

This was the third time in the past several days that Mukuro's words had thrown him for a loop. Only this time, he knew, the problem was not himself—it was her.

He jerked his hands away, as if burned.

Clouded with desire, her blue eye stared up at him, but the haze slowly faded to reveal confusion and irritation.

And Hiei concluded, then, that nothing about this was right or even marginally acceptable—her wanting this from him, so suddenly, so _desperately _when she never had before. So desperately that she would demand it from him in such a way. . . .

He could see the impatience and anger growing on her face, but more than anyone, she should have shown him empathy for his not being able to comply with her wishes.

Frighteningly, bafflingly, Mukuro had violated his subtle yet crucial expectations for her behavior, the foundation of his trust in her.

Stunned by this realization, Hiei stared down at her, suddenly disgusted to be so close to her but too confused to move. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"_Nothing_ is wrong with me," she snapped, "but there is something _very_ wrong with you!"

She seemed furious with him—beyond furious.

Mukuro threw him off of her, pushing herself to her feet. "You've wasted more than enough of my time!"

"What the fuck are you _talking _about?" he said, climbing to his feet as well. Never would he have expected this from her.

Hiei didn't understand.

"Explain yourself!" he ordered as she walked away from him. Surely there was some reason for her to behave this way.

But Mukuro reorganized her men, ignoring him completely.


	6. The Danger Within

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter six  
>"The Danger Within"<p>

* * *

><p>Shigure had only come out of his room because he had run out of food.<p>

For some reason, the guy who usually delivered meals to him had gone AWOL, and Shigure was hungry.

He didn't want to have a conversation with anyone. He just wanted to eat, stock up on cheddar squid titties, and leave.

But here was what always happened every time he ate in plain view: Someone was talking to him. And he had actually thought the fortress might have been empty.

"Something fucking bad is going on," Kirin said.

Shigure looked up from his sandwich. It was sort of strange to hear that sort of language from the big guy. Maybe he was doing it for shock value. People had done a lot more radical things to get his attention before, like maim their own hand.

"And I think it's affecting Lord Mukuro."

"Huh," said Shigure, not bothering to swallow before he spoke. "What, has she gone nuts or something?"

Kirin sat down across from him. "Not exactly, but just listen to this. Most everyone else in the fortress _has_ gone nuts, or something like it. I've seen them attack Hiei and myself for no apparent reason—and I heard Lord Mukuro was actually attacked herself several days ago. But now they're all obeying her, and she's even training them. But I can't get through to them at all. Every time I'm seen they rush at me blindly."

He paused, looking pretty distressed. "I had locked some of them up in a room, and Lord Mukuro had apparently been sleeping for a couple days, when out of nowhere she appeared and ordered me to let them out with no regard at all to reason and safety. She's not acting like them, but it's definitely strange. I haven't been able to get close enough to talk to her again without getting attacked by her soldiers."

Shigure wiped some sauce from his jaw ring.

Then he shrugged. "Everything seems pretty normal right now."

"That's because they're not here," Kirin explained. "The fortress hasn't been regularly occupied for days. They're probably in the training rooms. As for Hiei, I haven't seen him since yesterday, but he's been avoiding me anyway because he's either in denial or just a selfish little shit, which I wouldn't doubt in the slightest."

Shigure failed to suppress a chuckle at the disdain in Kirin's voice.

But as entertaining as this all probably was, he had other things to think about. "So what do you plan to do?" he asked, trying to move the conversation along.

"I don't know," Kirin answered. "To do something about it I'd have to figure out what's going on with them, and every guess I'd have would just be a shot in the dark. Maybe they've got some kind of rabies. Maybe they're just plain crazy. Hell, there's no way I can tell like this."

"If they have rabies, you have nothing to worry about," said Shigure idly. "They'll all die in a week or so." He paused. "Unless you have it, too. In that case, you're screwed, and I shouldn't be anywhere near you."

He was about to take another bite of his sandwich when suddenly the door at the back of the dining hall was thrown open and a throaty gurgling cry echoed across the room.

Shigure stopped and turned in his seat just in time to see a lower-ranking soldier running at them—at a pathetically slow speed, but with impressive gusto.

As the hysterical demon came nearer, Shigure rose, and just as it lunged for him, he pulled his fist back and hit it squarely in the face, sending it flying backward into a table.

"I guess that's what you were talking about," he said, interest piqued somewhat.

"Yes, in essence," Kirin said with some hint of amusement. "And I'm hoping you have more of an idea of what's going on than I do."

Shigure peered down at the unconscious soldier. Its nose was bloody and there was a substantial amount of drool on its face, but other than that, there was nothing spectacular to note about its appearance.

"I'd need some time to figure out what's wrong with him," he said. "If you're that interested in knowing."

He leaned down to try to lift the demon off the ground, then stopped, looking back at Kirin. "You mind carrying him to my room?"

Kirin grunted. "Sure."

* * *

><p>"I can't be sure what's causing it," Shigure had said. "We need another specimen to compare."<p>

If Shigure only knew how difficult that task would be, he wouldn't have simply left Kirin to it. Well, on second thought, maybe he would have. He did seem pretty absorbed.

But that didn't make this any easier. All Mukuro's men were clustered together so closely that it would be next to impossible to grab one of them without alerting the entire group and likely Mukuro herself.

"Stop panting like dogs and do it again!" he heard her voice over the sound of the wind in the trees, and he glimpsed two of her men flinging themselves at one another.

Kirin was hunched behind a group of bushes, biding his time to see if any opportune moment would surface, when suddenly a noise beside him made him look up.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

It was Hiei.

Kirin scowled, but kept his voice steady, refraining from making the brazen comments that came to mind. "I need to capture one of these guys. Shigure and I are trying to figure out what's wrong with them so we can fix this."

He turned back to the crowd of them. "But with them all grouped together like that, it's damn near impossible." It was when the words came out of his mouth that the idea came into Kirin's mind.

He was unlikely to agree, but it was worth at least a suggestion.

So Kirin asked, "Do you happen to feel inclined to help me out?"

For a long time, Hiei simply said nothing, staring out beyond the brush at the scene that lay before them.

"Hn, pathetic," he scoffed, before darting back up into the trees.

So much for help.

Kirin had turned his attention back to the horde with a sigh, but just moments later he saw a blur of black and white appear behind one of the men, and the soldier fell soundlessly to ground.

_What. . . ?_

Soon the entire congregation had realized what had happened, and Hiei ran out of the mass, leading them away.

Kirin was honestly shocked. The little asshole had actually decided to help him, it seemed.

Kirin's gaze shifted just slightly, making sure the coast was clear, when he saw Mukuro herself making her way after Hiei.

There was no telling what kind of beating he might be in for, but surely he would be all right, wouldn't he? Mukuro wouldn't kill him, acting strangely or not.

Would she?

_Better not waste any more time,_ Kirin reminded himself, then darted out of his shrubbery cover and snatched the unconscious man from the ground, making his way swiftly back to the fortress.

—.—

By the time Kirin returned to his room with the second soldier in tow, Shigure must have spent more than an hour staring into his microscope. He sat up as Kirin walked in, glancing at him and blinking his vision clear.

"Just sit him up over there," he said, nodding in the general direction of a couple chairs next to the operating table where the first man was lying.

"He hasn't woken up?" asked Kirin, once his arms were free.

"I gave him a strong sedative, he'll be out for several more hours," said Shigure. He slid the microscope in Kirin's direction on the table. "C'mere, have a look at this."

Kirin stared for a moment before somewhat awkwardly approaching the microscope and putting his face up to it.

"What . . . am I looking at?"

"It's his blood," Shigure answered. "Do you see those black deposits?"

Kirin stared into the microscope, unsure what he was seeing but supposing it was black specks. "Yeah."

"Those shouldn't be there. I'm assuming it's related."

Kirin looked for a moment more before he pulled away. "So what are they? What does it mean?"

"I can't be sure yet, but I don't think the black stuff is the cause—it doesn't appear to be a living organism."

Kirin wasn't sure whether that was good or bad, but it seemed apparent that something was inside those men.

Something that was possibly inside of Mukuro.


	7. Stranger

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter seven  
>"Stranger"<p>

* * *

><p>Hiei couldn't sleep.<p>

It was such a silly thing—so silly that he be bothered by this. He had always been so good at resting his back against the sturdy trunk of a tree and blocking it all out. But tonight he could not accomplish that one simple task, and so he roamed the halls of the fortress.

He was not looking for anything particular, simply passing the time with a mindless routine that he had performed over and over on his way to visit her.

And then, suddenly, she was coming down the hall toward him, wearing only a shirt torn down the center and her stride nothing short of provocative.

Hiei stopped several yards away from her, so stunned that his bruised face couldn't even form the customary scowl.

Then he sneered, "Your memory must be deteriorating along with your sanity—otherwise you would have remembered to wear pants."

"No," she said in response, her voice low and dismissive. She stared at him for several moments, her eyes glittering with the predatory gaze akin to a snake, and took another step forward.

No.

_No?_

A strange feeling took hold of him, but Hiei's expression remained coolly passive. "I fail to see how it benefits anyone for you to prance about the halls half-naked while your already-retarded men fritter away what little is left of their brains," he said. "Stop acting like a wanton little cunt and do your job."

Mukuro frowned. "Get out of my way," she snapped, then continued walking.

It was obvious now—she didn't care anymore.

She didn't care about herself, and she obviously didn't care about him.

But that was all right, because Hiei didn't have to care either. He didn't have to care what became of her, or if she would ever again bless him with some semblance of normality.

Mukuro walked past him, and he did not bother to look back.

He didn't know why this was happening, and he didn't give a fuck.

* * *

><p>The messenger showed up later in the week, straight from Enki himself, and Kirin intercepted him at the entrance to the fortress, terror striking him when the small, fidgety demon asked to speak with Mukuro.<p>

"My Lord is otherwise occupied at the moment," Kirin told him, respect for Mukuro driving him to protect her reputation by any means necessary. "But if you leave the message with me, I will make sure that it reaches her."

"The message is from Enki himself," said the other man, looking perplexed. "Surely it takes precedence over whatever else she's doing."

"Lord Mukuro isn't here right now," said Kirin quickly. "Either tell me what it is you have to say or come back another day."

The messenger looked skeptical, but eventually relented, conveying the message and leaving as suddenly as he had arrived.

Border patrol. Kirin had completely forgotten, and with the recent upset in the fortress, rounds had ceased completely. Dozens of humans had died already because of this. Enki was not pleased.

To make matters worse, Kirin had not seen Mukuro in days. But as he went to search, he felt an immense dread about what was about to take place.

When would it end?

—.—

Kirin was already distressed from being forced to effectively lie to Enki, and so when he saw Mukuro coming toward him dressed in little more than her underclothes, he had to try very hard not to panic.

His brain madly fumbled for what he should say that would be appropriate, but she didn't seem to care that he was struggling. She walked up to him and reached up, pulling him down closer to her, and removed his helmet.

She stared at him, and he stared back.

And then, before he could think of saying anything useful, she leaned up and touched her lips to his.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, and he had hardly gotten over the shock of it when he jerked his head back, eyes widening in surprise.

"I'm very sorry, My Lord," Kirin said. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Don't, then," Mukuro replied quickly, letting his helmet fall from her grip to the floor with a clank as she placed one hand on his shoulder.

Kirin was not sure how he felt about this.

All he knew was that Mukuro's interest in him had never extended past the duties involved with ruling. Perhaps at times their bond was something resembling friendship, but never would he have thought . . .

Did she truly want him in this way? Did he want her?

Kirin was too uncertain to chance it, and there was no time for that anyway.

He placed his hands on Mukuro's waist, but only so that he could ease her away from him, and was about to steer her focus toward more pressing matters, when suddenly out the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar blur of black and white.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" came Hiei's voice.

Kirin felt a pang of guilt, but when he turned, he saw that Hiei was not addressing him. Rather, his gaze was trained on Mukuro, eyes smoldering with uncharacteristic emotion.

_Shit._

* * *

><p>That bitch let go of her piece of meat and turned on Hiei, and he held his ground, sneering at her as she approached.<p>

She hit him.

He stumbled back only a step, the feeling of her fist on his already-bruised face nothing in comparison to the cleaving inside his chest.

This was not the Mukuro that he knew.

He did not know her at all.

Somehow, their mutual understanding had dissipated, and only now did Hiei realize the painful hollowness of having it gone.

She had torn everything they had down the center, like the shirt now failing to conceal her chest.

Hiei was so consumed by rage that he could hardly think straight, much less hit her back.

"Look at yourself," he snarled, tone dark and nasty, "You're a disgrace." He spat at her face. "You disgust me."

Mukuro screamed and the light blinded him—her light.

And she struck him with all of it.

—.—

Hiei was awake, and for the first time in a long time, he did not want to be. Every muscle in his body throbbed with the burn of her.

_Her. _

Mukuro had left him, now insisting on tormenting him with the behavior of an impostor, a woman he did not want to know. As the blood sang in his ears, Hiei let his mind wander, trying to somehow cope with this idea, but he still could not fathom it.

He heard voices and opened his eyes, and they stung from the bright light shining upon him.

There was something on his leg.

He sat upright, and all his nerves screamed at once.

"What's happened to me?" he demanded, trying to decipher the white wrappings from his ankle to his knee. A sudden bout of dizziness was making the task rather difficult.

"It was Mukuro," came the hairless mammoth's voice to his right. "After she was done maiming you, she was apparently too tired to mess with either of us and left, so I was able to take you to Shigure to fix you up. You've got a broken leg there, and you've been out for two days now."

Hiei took one look at that woman-stealing bastard and felt his blood pressure spike.

"Just in time, Hiei," said the surgeon, who was standing across the room in front of his shelves. "If you're both done babbling I have something important to tell you." He turned to them then, approaching them with a jar in his hand, the occupant of which resembled a bloated worm.

"This is a parasite," he announced. "These things are what're causing the soldiers to go nuts. From what I can tell, they enter through the blood stream until they find their way into the brain, where they begin to manipulate the host. Based on their behavior, it seems they blindly attack others in order to spread their seed, so to speak."

Hiei closed his eyes, trying to block out the sudden ringing in his ears.

He didn't want this.

He didn't care about a damn bug in a jar.

All he wanted was Mukuro. He wanted to rewind time so that he was caught in her embrace, subject to the gentleness of her hands and her mouth and the sturdiness of her demeanor. He hadn't even experienced it long enough to understand it completely, and he certainly wasn't ready to lose it yet.

Now he couldn't even speak to her—much less think about her—without feeling that he was being manipulated.

It was a thought that made his teeth grind.

"But that's obviously not all," the surgeon was saying. "These things are obeying someone—who herself has started to act strangely. I think they're behaving as a sort of hive mind, with a queen parasite organizing them: Mukuro."

"How?" asked the behemoth after a silence. "I've never heard of . . . _anything _like this. How did they infect our men, much less get into the fortress in the first place?"

"This specimen is rare," said the surgeon. "It would have had to come from an outside source. Have there been any visitors that could have exposed us to it? And as I said, it spreads through the blood. Large cuts, open wounds . . . anything like that."

"There were intruders a week or so ago. I wasn't able to stop them, and they held several of our men hostage."

Hiei stared at the jar as the conversation droned on, observing the leech-like black creature submersed in inches of water.

He thought of the wound on Mukuro's arm. The wound she had given herself in order to save him. The wound that had split open the day the first soldier attacked her . . .

Hiei's blood went cold.

"Mukuro would never allow herself to be manipulated by _that_," he growled.

"The parasite feeds on and seeks out high levels of energy," explained the surgeon. "The stronger the host, the more easily it can survive and reproduce. She wouldn't have much of a choice in the matter." He, too, looked down at the jar. "Ever since you woke up, this one's been clinging to that side of the container. It senses your energy." He stood and approached the cot. "Here, have a look—"

"I don't give a damn!" Hiei shouted, back-handing the object out of the other man's hand. It shattered to pieces on the floor. "This is absurd."

The surgeon sighed.

"Absurd or not," the incredibly stupid hulk interjected, "_I_ don't plan to let this continue. We have to figure out a way to stop it." He looked up hopefully. "Isn't there a way?"

"These things are tricky. Removing a living one would likely cause irreparable brain damage," the surgeon replied. "However, the body's immune system can fight it off—if it can actually recognize the threat. It seems that most of the parasites have been able to mask themselves from their host's body, securing themselves in the brain almost effortlessly."

"So, what? We have to just hope that by some luck everyone's bodies fight them off?"

"Actually, I have an idea on that front." He looked at Hiei. "Your Jagan eye. It's possible that you can reach inside their minds and get through to them, thus breaking the connection between parasite and host long enough for the immune system to identify the danger."

They blathered on while Hiei stared numbly at the small creature lying on the floor, his glare fading as he watched it writhe amidst the wet shards of broken glass. It looked so pathetic, so _stupid_, and he could not bring himself to believe . . .

"It's not really her, then." Hiei looked up at the surgeon. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "It's not her."

A moment of silence passed before the behemoth spoke, "So are you going to try it? Using your Jagan?"

Hiei might have snapped at him for asking, or at the very least given him a dirty look.

The woman who, in a matter of days, had nearly brought him to wit's end was not actually Mukuro.

He was relieved. Perhaps he had not lost her. Perhaps there was an explanation for this.

But all that Hiei could focus on were the words "I love you" as they frustratingly—infuriatingly—replayed in his head, and the incessant ache in his chest upon realizing that the sentiment had not truly been hers.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the thoughts away.

"Hn," he finally said and, struggling with the resistance given by his injured leg, climbed off the table.


	8. Breaking Through

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter eight  
>"Breaking Through"<p>

* * *

><p>Hiei made his way up the stairs from Shigure's lab at a much slower pace than he would have on any ordinary day—not only because he was favoring his right leg, but because the thought of what he was about to do added to the slew of emotions pulsing stronger and stronger through his veins.<p>

He had never intruded upon Mukuro's mind in this way.

He was aware of someone walking next to him, though he had chosen to ignore it even as they walked through the halls and drew nearer to the exit of the fortress.

The more Hiei thought about it, the emptier and more confused he felt.

In some profound way, Mukuro had been providing him with stability . . .

It had meant more to him than he realized.

The words escaped before he could think of stopping them: "She doesn't want you."

There was no immediate response, but then the behemoth said quite neutrally, "It's the parasite."

And there was no point in arguing. They were already outside.

The forest held a familiar sight—the lot of Mukuro's men beating each other to a pulp. Quickly, though, Hiei realized that it wasn't each other they were beating, but a weak, bird-like demon that they pulled from the trees. From here, he could sense that her men had grown stronger, and the demon they had captured would not survive much longer if unaided.

But that was not Hiei's problem.

He spotted Mukuro watching the scene unfold from a nearby tree, and without a second thought, he ran and leaped—far less gracefully than usual—so that he was perched in front of her on the branch.

His injured leg trembled from the exertion, but Hiei ignored the pain and looked hard at her, searching for any trace of familiarity in her expression.

She turned and stared into his face for the briefest second before she smacked him away.

Hiei landed awkwardly on his back, all the while inwardly cursing his physical handicap. Then, before he could stand, a surprised gasp of air was pushed from his lungs as a sudden weight landed directly on top of him, and Hiei opened his eyes to find Mukuro looking down at him with cool displeasure, her bare legs on either side of his torso as she—perhaps unwittingly, but probably not—ground herself into him, pinning him to the ground.

Her temperament had not improved, it seemed. She was the same as she had been.

Ignoring the sharp pang of disappointment, Hiei tore his bandana from his forehead and cast it aside, a heightened awareness taking hold as the Jagan opened.

He looked into her face again, holding her gaze unwaveringly. "Mukuro," he said, and penetrated her mind.

But something was wrong.

Something was in the way, a barrier, and he couldn't get through.

For several seconds, all he felt was a darkness thick with anger and primal desire, and then she was hitting him, and it was gone.

She struck his arm, then his chest, and then she stopped to wipe his blood from her face, and despite the opportunity, Hiei could not bring himself to hit her.

Fighting her like this did not bring him pleasure like it once had, and none of it would be the same if he knew that she was not herself.

She threw her fist again, and he barely managed to shield his face with his palm in time.

"Stop," Hiei commanded. "You're being stupid."

She deliberately ground herself more tightly against him and hit him with her other hand, and Hiei was lost further in an abyss of confusion and sensation. Physical communication had always been paramount between them, and it had always come so naturally to him. Why now could he do nothing but lay frozen beneath her, body stiff as she held him there, fists slamming into his skin?

Hiei wished that it didn't have to be this way.

She worked her hips, and he fought down a guttural noise. "Enough," he growled, body tired, her insistence quickly draining his strength.

Then Mukuro leaned closer, and Hiei raised his free hand firmly to the nape of her neck, wishing to keep her there until he accomplished what needed to be done, and once again reached into her thoughts.

At first Hiei found only what he had before, that fog of lust, and as he sifted through the haze, he felt her hands moving down his person. He understood more clearly than ever what she was intent on having take place.

Then she stopped, and suddenly—

_Hiei?_

It was only a faint echo, not enough to overpower the chaotic buzz of everything else—still, Hiei heard it, and his grip on the base of her skull tightened.

The tone filled him with a welcome relief, and for a second he was so elated that he didn't know what to say.

_Mukuro,_ and then, all he could think of, _What the hell are you _doing?

Mukuro's hand moved a bare inch.

_Hiei_! Her voice echoed in his mind._ Stop it_!

Her hand found his belts and she broke one.

_Please_! Kill _me_!

Hiei felt his blood run cold, and his breath caught in his throat.

_Don't be stupid_! He felt her hands pulling at the second belt. _You can fight this! You can still win, you bitch_!

_I can't_! Hiei's next belt yielded to her. _I can't_!_ I just fucking can't. . . ._

She was trying to jerk his pants down.

_Please, Hiei. I don't want to_ do _this anymore_!

_Do you think I enjoy this_? he shot back. _ Do you think I like it any more than you do_?

He let go of her head and grasped her hands, pulling them away from his pants.

Even if he had the strength, Hiei couldn't fulfill her request.

_Dammit, Mukuro, I can't let you go._

* * *

><p><em><strong>I can't let you go.<strong>_

Mukuro's hands were moving from something—something she wanted.

She didn't know what she was doing anymore.

Her eye was leaking, and her head was hurting, and someone's voice was screaming.

Her voice.

What was she doing?

Why?

Where?

_Hiei._

Who?

_Hiei . . ._

Hiei?

"Mukuro," came his voice, and she opened her eye.

She stared.

He was there, and she wanted him.

She reached for him, but she stopped, and she growled.

Who was she? Who was he?

Why did it matter?

She snarled again and tackled him. This was his fault.

Wasn't it?

She couldn't focus.

She couldn't focus, and suddenly she couldn't see.

"Hi—"

She screamed again, and someone else was shouting her name—was it him?—but she couldn't tell.

She was shaking.

"Hiei!"

Was she imagining it?

She felt something, and she clung to it, blindly.

"Hiei!"

Someone sobbed for a moment.

Then . . .

Nothing.

* * *

><p>There was noise.<p>

Then she said his name—once, twice.

She held him and sobbed, and Hiei knew—knew that it was her.

He spoke her name again and clutched at her tattered shirt, pulling her closer, oblivious to all else as he was blinded by the incredible fact that she had won.

She lifted her head and looked at him, the haziness fading from her eye.

Then, the moment after recognition seemed to strike her, she hurled him through the air.

The last thing he knew was the audible _crack_ of his back against a tree before everything faded away.


	9. Inescapable Strings

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter nine  
>"Inescapable Strings"<p>

* * *

><p>When the two of them had finally caught sight of Mukuro and her parasite-possessed men, the first thing Kirin realized was that they were beating something, and as they neared, he knew it was a demon, and it was still alive.<p>

Soon though, it would not be.

Hiei left Kirin's side and went straight to Mukuro, and Kirin did the only thing he could think to do: he ran to save the nearly defenseless apparition.

Kirin thought he may be able to wrestle the demon away from Mukuro's soldiers without bloodshed, but they were strong. Stronger than before.

The training had certainly paid off, but it had been difficult for Kirin to keep things reasonable. Most of Mukuro's men were unconscious now, though Kirin couldn't be entirely sure that there weren't a couple he had killed. He didn't want to think of it. They were his comrades . . . those he should have been fighting with, not against. He knew them. But not anymore.

A startling crash impeded his thoughts.

Kirin turned his head, the unconscious bird demon he had saved in his arms, to see Hiei fall to the ground at the foot of a tree much like a rag doll.

Mukuro was yards away, staring at him. Then she stood, approaching him with careful, calculated steps.

Kirin called her name out without thinking.

Her head whipped around and the emotion he saw in her gaze was nothing short of terrifying. She snarled at him, but then without warning she collapsed to her knees, a scream tearing from her throat.

Kirin watched in confusion for a moment as she doubled over, but then his legs carried him past her. He had no time left. One or both or maybe all of them would die unless this was stopped.

He gathered Hiei up in his other arm, and he ran.

—.—

In his eagerness to reach safety, Kirin did not at first realize that something was amiss. But the door to Shigure's lab was already open—inside lay only one of the two demons that he had taken from Mukuro's ranks, and Shigure himself was gone as well.

This was bad.

Kirin readjusted his arm to support the still-unconscious Hiei. Apparently use of the Jagan had been an unsuccessful tactic, and now on top of an increasingly furious Mukuro, Hiei now had even more bruises to add to his already impressive repertoire of injuries. One more failed plan, and perhaps Hiei would not even live to see the end of this.

And despite what Kirin thought of him, he knew that if Hiei were to die, their chances of re-establishing normalcy would slim significantly.

"What happened?"

He turned at the voice behind him, finding Shigure having just entered the lab, a somewhat perplexed look on his face and a bag of squid titties in hand.

"One of the men woke up, and it looks like he ran off." Kirin laid Hiei and the unconscious bird demon on the empty table. "We need to find him before—"

And it was then that Kirin's ears picked up the sound of two voices echoing down the corridor: one male, urgent, and the other belonging to a clearly irate Mukuro.

A thrill of genuine fear spiked through him. He didn't need to hear the details of the conversation to know they needed to leave.

"Come on," he told Shigure, and without another word scooped Hiei and the bird into his arms and walked swiftly through the doorway.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Kirin knew they didn't have any time.

The voices had already come into the hall, and Kirin couldn't even think to look back as he ran.

That was when he heard the laughter, and it sent chills up his spine. Kirin didn't know when, how or if the attack would come, so he took the first turn he was met with and continued to run.

He was shocked when he managed to find his way out of the fortress in one piece. Mukuro must have decided to let them go for whatever reason or found something more important to distract her, but Kirin continued to put distance between them and the fortress.

It wasn't going to be safe in there anymore—they had no choice. They would have to do without Shigure's lab. They had to stay alive.

Or else everything they had done would be in vain.

—.—

Kirin warmed his hands over the small fire, then lifted his eyes to look at Shigure, whose face was lit somewhat grotesquely by the firelight from where he sat against a tree.

"You think he'll wake soon?"

Shigure grunted. "There's nothing you can do, so quit worrying about it."

Kirin's expression soured. He couldn't just stop worrying about it, but Shigure was right—there was nothing he could do. That was what worried him in the first place.

"I wonder how he's taking this," Kirin said then, quietly.

"How would you take it if your girlfriend was possessed by a parasite?"

"I—"

"That's a rhetorical question."

Kirin stared into the darkness of the trees, imagining the situation with more than a little discomfort until sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

><p>Hiei awoke in the still darkness of the early morning to the sudden terrible fear that Mukuro was gone. He stumbled clumsily to his feet, looking wildly about himself before determining that none of the three sleeping forms nearby belonged to her, and then remembered that it was true.<p>

She was gone.

She had not been able to defeat it.

Dark anger and hopelessness swept over him, and he nearly crumpled to the ground again.

Hiei had never had the foresight to imagine he would ever have to leave her. Mukuro was a danger like this—didn't know how to control herself—didn't know where to stop. Her request for him to end her life was a wise one, and a part of Hiei saw it as a challenge, one that his pride viewed no differently than any other fight to the death.

His leg was weak—ankle twisted, perhaps. Movement was taxing, and his entire body throbbed. Were he to face her again now, the death would surely be his own.

But the strings that kept him here ran far deeper than loyalty or honor, and he could not abandon her.

Hiei began to walk.

—.—

For some time, Hiei edged through the brush and trees, and all was quiet except for his thoughts and the sound of his footsteps and breathing.

Then he was being talked at, and his expression contorted.

"Hiei, you can't go back there," said that giant insufferable pest. "You wouldn't last a minute like this."

"_Shut up_," he snarled, continuing to trudge forward. Then, "Do you think I don't know what will happen?"

"What good can you do if you get yourself killed? Don't think I'm just going to let you waste all our chances at fixing this because you want to be a stubborn dick!"

Hiei paused, but just briefly.

"If you want to fight, I'll gladly oblige after I've finished my business with her," he said. "Now get the fuck out of my way."

He picked up speed slightly, moving past the behemoth.

"Hiei! No one else can help them but you!"

Them.

He didn't care about them.

The only one that mattered was her, and that was all he cared about.

He tore through the brush emphatically, but the idiot refused to take a hint: "I am not letting you go alone," he growled.

"Do what you want," retorted Hiei. "I don't give a damn."

His physical condition lengthened the short travel time to the fortress to nearly half an hour, and by the time they reached it, all the doors on the lower level of the facility were closed and locked.

Immediately Hiei turned to the alternative route of entry—the treetops. But the moment he tried to dart up into the higher branches, his leg inconveniently gave way and sent him tumbling back down to the forest floor.

He muttered some colorful profanities under his breath, and, unwilling to waste any more time, promptly blew a hole through the wall of the giant bug and climbed in, not caring enough to look back to see if the behemoth had managed to fit through.

By following her energy, it did not take long for Hiei to arrive at the dining hall with the mammoth at his heels.

The bitch—that bitch in Mukuro's body—was eating alongside her hoard of idiotic heathens, and when Hiei positioned himself directly inside the door, nearly all of them turned to stare at him in the way that caged dogs would eye a passing squirrel.

He looked past their drooling countenances, spotting Mukuro on the other side of the room.

"Hello, whore," Hiei greeted her. "I'm tired of this. Let's finish it."


	10. All On the Line

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter ten  
>"All On the Line"<p>

* * *

><p>They watched one another for a mere moment; a grin spread across her face.<p>

Then Mukuro moved, and Hiei moved with her, jumping away from the behemoth's smoke attack and the startled cries of the other men. He flitted to the top of a table, eyes trained on the after-images of her as she darted around him, slowly closing in.

Then she was upon him, and Hiei's delayed reaction left him barely enough time to move out of the way before the table gave way under the force of her energy.

He was thrown back, avoiding the blow itself but barely managing to find his footing before she threw herself at him again.

Mukuro's hit struck his chest, but she pulled back, darting across the room and away from him.

He didn't understand the retreat until he saw her lean down and pick something off the ground, and his eyes widened.

It was his sword.

"Are you going to fight or do I have to stick you like a worthless pig?" she asked, the smile in her voice.

She came at him again, but this time he did not flee—didn't have to dodge. This would be her mistake, if she could ever make one. Hiei was weak, and her hand-to-hand combat was superior, yet here she was, playing to his strength instead of his numerous weaknesses.

In the instant in which she sliced the blade through the air above his head, Hiei pulled the replacement sword from his belt and the clash of metal against metal pierced the air.

She looked pleased by the turn of events, but she wouldn't be for long. This little game could be the end of her.

"Fool," he said, blocking another hit. "You really have lost your mind."

Mukuro yelled in response, jerking back and striking at him again, but their swords merely collided for the third time.

She twirled her sword, attempting to lock them and disarm him, but he would not have it. He drew his sword away from her misguided attempt and she slung her own, but his hand was better—his blade sliced across her abdomen and she cried out, leaping away from him as the remainder of her shirt dropped down her body, and she switched the sword between hands, allowing the tattered cloth to fall to the floor.

Then Mukuro drew her arm back and threw the sword at him.

Hiei hurled his current weapon to the side and, with the cuff of his hand, deflected the oncoming blade so that he could grab the hilt.

It felt good to hold his sword again.

She was watching him—waiting, perhaps, for him to make a move.

Her bared stomach was bleeding, and Hiei experienced a very real moment of regret at having caused it. The real Mukuro was not calling the shots anymore, and wounding her body was undue punishment for actions that were not her own.

Hiei just wanted it to be over.

"This isn't a game," he said. "Don't toy with me." He ran at her, swinging the blade at her face.

Mukuro's mechanical arm flew up and the metal clashed, the flying sparks punctuated by her sharp peal of laughter.

Her other hand thrust out, knocking him back, and she careered around him, striking him again, and she almost landed another hit before he just managed to tear his sword through the air, driving her away.

"You're going to die here," she crooned, gnashing her teeth as she smacked him and darted away again. "I'll bury that sword in you!"

She laughed again—a cold, clearly delighted laugh, and it served to convince him once more how foreign she had become. Yet her excitement thrilled him, for what a magnificent predator she was.

And how sad for him to know that these circumstances—these final moments—were the last he would ever get to experience her.

She lunged at him again, faster without the sword—and this time she knocked him down, his hurt leg giving way and sending him to the ground.

Hiei could not rise in time to run or dodge, even as she came for him again, a maniacal glint in her eye. He poised his sword in front of himself, the tip of the blade aimed directly at her as a last defense.

But before she could reach him, her body was thrown off course by a sudden force from the right.

She quickly regained her momentum, rolling to her feet with a feral hiss.

It had been the body of one of her own men. The gargantuan stood there, and with the force of his energy, another of her men's bodies hovered in the air and flew at her.

Hiei regained his footing, watching with mild shock as that idiot countered Mukuro's attacks, slamming her again and again with objects lifted from the ground.

It would not be enough to defeat her, but it provided Hiei with the opportunity he needed.

As she shrieked again in frustration, Hiei ran at her, surely taking her by surprise as he collided with her and pinned her down, the tip of his sword poised a hair's width away from the pale skin of her neck.

Now.

_Now_!

Hiei's hands tightened on the hilt.

But he hesitated, and by then she had smacked the sword away, the blade nicking her skin.

She bashed Hiei from her.

He was on his back again, and her fists were in his face.

Hiei couldn't see at first, yet the resolution of this was suddenly clearer than ever. He hadn't the strength or will to take to her life—he never had, and he doubted he ever would.

And strangest of all, he accepted that solemn fact, like he accepted her continuous beatings and her screams of rage.

The real Mukuro, if there was any of her left, would be disappointed with him. He, too, was disappointed—he hadn't ever really known what he had wanted for himself or for her—but this certainly was not it.

_This_ was far from what he would have chosen for them.

Grief filled him, and he caught her fists in his own bloodied hands, his sword cast too far away for him to reach. "Dammit, Mukuro!" he shouted, his energy swelling around him. "It shouldn't have to end like this!"

* * *

><p>Mukuro continued to throw her fists. Hiei was going to die.<p>

_Hiei was going to die?_

Her chest tightened as she stared at his bloody face, but she couldn't stop.

He had to die.

But, no, he didn't.

Her fists slowed minutely, and he caught them.

_"Dammit, Mukuro! It shouldn't have to end like this!"_

Mukuro . . .

Was that who she was?

Mukuro.

Yes, he called her that once. It must have been ages ago.

But here he was. And he was going to die, finally.

"Shut up!" she screamed, then just as suddenly, "Hiei!" She freed a fist and hit him again. "You—"

Something hit her from behind, and she cried out in pain.

Why was she fighting?

She jerked around, throwing energy blindly. It probably hit its mark but she didn't care anymore. She wanted all of this to stop.

It was too much. She couldn't think at all. Everything whirled around her.

She turned back to Hiei, she hit him, and her body seized.

She couldn't stop looking at him.

* * *

><p>He was going to die.<p>

It struck him in a funny way. Hiei had never expected to live this long, much less expect to be where he was.

Regrets were pointless, especially now. He didn't want to spend these last moments thinking of everything he could have done differently in a life that had begun as a colossal mountain of shit and, it seemed, would end in largely the same fashion.

Reminiscing was a useless practice better left to ungrateful fools.

She hit him again, then stopped, a wide-eyed, stricken look about her. And as Hiei stared back at her, he realized—incredibly, illogically—despite all of it, how grateful he was.

Weakly, he extended a hand to her face, but he couldn't quite reach.

He tried to speak, but the thickness of his own blood choked the words back down his throat.

And just when he was certain that the brief moment of calm would surely end, Hiei felt the warm pulse of the Jagan on his forehead as he said the words into her mind: _Thank you._

* * *

><p>Mukuro stared.<p>

What . . . what was she doing?

A tear fell from her eye.

This wasn't going to happen.

It _wasn't_.

More tears fell.

_**Thank you.**_

It bit into her consciousness, and suddenly she felt she knew.

_No._

_No, this can't, what have I—_

"_Hiei_!" she wailed.

For all that, she held him, but it may have been minutes or hours until her body froze with the most crippling pain and then, oblivion.


	11. Stay

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter eleven  
>"Stay"<p>

* * *

><p>Hiei.<p>

Hiei was dead.

Mukuro's body was brought into startling existence, lungs sucking in air that it seemed they had missed for centuries.

Her head ached—everything ached.

The hardest thing to ignore was the ache of her heart, and all she could do was cry out in pain.

_"What the hell have you done to her?"_

The familiar voice reached her ears, and everything in her stopped.

Had she imagined it?

She could see nothing that explained it, and she jerked herself upright, ignoring the pain.

She was in Shigure's lab, lying on a table, and Hiei was there—staring at her. He looked terribly abused, but alive.

Mukuro was instantly torn between happiness and the soul-shattering facts of everything that had led up to this moment.

She had almost killed him—almost destroyed everything in her life that ever mattered.

Everything hurt too much to bear. She couldn't stay—she couldn't allow it to seep in any further.

She stumbled to her feet and she ran.

She could hear him following her, but he was so badly injured that he could barely keep up—then, finally, he grabbed her hand and with a sudden lurch brought them both to a halt.

"_Don't_," he snarled. Then his tone softened: "Don't you dare run away from me."

"Let me—go!" she pleaded. "L . . . let me. . . ." Every word was punctuated by gasps for air, until her voice was eventually choked by anguished sobs.

Her stomach ached. "I . . . we . . ." She wanted to vomit it all up—the feelings, what she had done, knowing any of it, all of it.

"You can't have believed that was me!" she cried. "Tell me you didn't believe that was me!"

But he had. Even when . . .

Mukuro could never bring herself to do such things without love and trust backing them—and now that her trust in even herself was so badly crippled, how could she ever be close to him again?

It would be empty. That was never what she had wanted.

And if she couldn't have Hiei . . .

She never wanted to see him again.

She didn't want to see any of them again.

"I didn't know what to believe!" he shouted back. "What was I supposed to think when you suddenly started acting like a deranged, blood-thirsty skank?"

The words bit into her soul and she sobbed even harder.

This would never be better.

His grip hurt her, but she only wanted more. She wanted to suffer endlessly for what she had done.

"I just wanted to make you happy."

Mukuro found herself looking at him, blinking at the tears in her eye and swallowing those that threatened to choke her.

He wanted to make her _happy_?

Though she had—

Everything she did—

And she was nothing—

Hiei wanted to make her _happy_?

But it hurt again, terribly, blindingly. He had done all this and she had destroyed it all.

They were . . . ruined.

"You _have_ made me happy," she lamented. "You have . . . I . . ."

She had wanted him. But she had wanted it to be _right_. Now it never could be, her heart said.

It was over.

"You cry too much," he said bluntly, stepping closer to her, seeming to test the nearness.

"Idiot." His voice was soft. "I thought that I would never be able to speak to you again." His nose grazed her jaw, gently. "Stay," he said. "Stay with me."

Mukuro wanted nothing more than to give in—to be close to him and feel safe. But she couldn't.

She felt disgusted and appalled and so deeply pained at everything that she couldn't stand it. Her entire body trembled at the weight of it all.

Her legs gave way and she sank to the ground, taking him with her—though a part of her wanted him to release her, she couldn't bear to imagine that he might let go of her hand. Let go of her, forever.

She gripped his hand just as tightly—selfishly. She couldn't stop herself. Maybe he would forgive her, even if she didn't deserve it.

If she couldn't be forgiven, she had no reason left worth living for.

"Don't . . . don't stop talking," she breathed, finding that she craved his warmth more than ever before. "I don't want to think anymore."

"Then stop," he said simply. "Pull your head out of your ass. That tramp wasn't you, so stop thinking about her and what she did." He shifted closer to her and loosened his grip on her, aligning their palms.

She could tell that he was tired, and she wanted to give in to his words, but she couldn't.

He didn't understand. He didn't know—that some things she had done were things that she, in some way, had wanted to happen. How could she say that it was someone else?

_I love you._

She didn't know what she was at all anymore.

Mukuro shook her head, lowering it into her other hand.

He couldn't see that, and she had no idea how she could possibly make him understand. It was hard enough for her to even think on.

That thing had just fed on her desires. It had shown her for the beast she truly was.

For a long time, neither of them said anything.

Then he spoke again.

"I . . . tried to tell you." He seemed to be focusing very hard on forming each word. "But I couldn't . . . didn't know how . . . or . . ." he trailed off, touching the top of her hair.

Mukuro didn't know what to think—his words didn't make sense pieced together.

But something inside of her was suddenly, instinctively terrified.

She raised her head just enough to see him, to try to untangle what he was saying to her, but as the silence only stretched on, she finally asked him, voice soft and muddled from the tears, "Tell me what?"

Immediately, he withdrew his hand and turned away.

"I . . ." He visibly swallowed. "Can't you understand? Don't you . . ." He turned back to her. "Don't you know what you mean to me?"

Mukuro's eye filled with tears again—the emotion threatened to crush her.

This didn't feel right. He couldn't really be saying this to her, like this.

"Hiei . . . I can't—" she whimpered, desperate to find something to quell this horrible ache in her chest—she wanted to accept him, to make everything right. But how?

How could he continue to feel the same after what she was about to tell him?

"Not everything I did . . . was a lie," she admitted. "I meant . . . what . . . I said to you before."

Were these words really leaving her lips?

"But if that's true, what about the other things I did? How do I know what I really meant to do or not? I'm—I'm so scared that I don't know that—bloodthirsty whore—wasn't really who I am. What I did—" she cut off, unable to continue, squeezing her eye shut.

He was quiet again, but somehow she could sense that he was watching her, and somehow that made it worse.

"Don't tell me who you are," he said, and she could hear the scowl in his voice. "I already know who you are." He paused. "And I love every insufferable piece of you."

Mukuro's heart burst.

There was no way that she could fathom the words, and yet they seeped into her skin—into her veins—with more clarity than any words ever had in her whole life.

Because she trusted him, because she believed in him, more than anything she had ever known—and these words . . .

His words could be nothing short of real.

Mukuro tried not to cry, and her body simply curled around his hand, pulling it as near to her heart as she could.

He wanted her. And she wanted him, so, so much.

She breathed in sharply and looked up at him, fighting the tide of emotions. "I need you," she sighed, unfurling her hand from his to touch his face. "I love you, too."

Angling his head to her touch, Hiei closed his eyes, mouth lingering at her palm and hand pressed with finality where she had placed it against her chest.

He caught her arm in his hands and felt the scar running lengthwise from the inside of her wrist.

"We should rest," he murmured against her skin.

Mukuro nodded in agreement but simply sat for a moment, reveling in their embrace, before she pushed herself to her feet. As he fumbled to his, she remembered suddenly how hurt he was, and neared him without thought to provide support as they traveled down the hall.

She wanted to forget for a while the reasons she might be afraid. She wanted to forget about the pain and the past just long enough to find comfort and rest with him.

Mukuro pried open the door of Hiei's unused room and together they eased onto the bed.

Lying safely with him was as instinctual as her paranoia and anger had been—something she couldn't question, but simply know that there were boundless good reasons for.

She reached out to touch him—she wanted to—but shied away.

Maybe things would look better in a while.


	12. Nothing To Show

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter twelve  
>"Nothing To Show"<p>

* * *

><p>Mukuro dragged another of her soldiers along the length of the hall with a sigh.<p>

She had been unconscious for two days, but yesterday she had awoken from the spell of the parasite—as it was that, she had been told by Shigure this morning—and she had immediately begun efforts toward seeking out her previous parasite drones (her own _men_, she reminded herself bitterly) in order to have them taken to Shigure and the parasites removed.

The men were less violent now, and rather more confused and disoriented. From what Shigure said, it seemed that they could assume that the death of her parasite had triggered some kind of chain reaction among its spawn, and now her men were all being freed of the parasites' control.

Mukuro could empathize with them more than anyone, and she was determined to right things for all of them.

Mukuro left her current man in Shigure's care and headed back up the steps of the lab and into the hall, her head beginning to ache with a mixture of stress and exhaustion. Last night she had slept well for a time, but awoke to a nightmare that had her irrationally desiring Hiei's nearness. She sorely rebelled against that notion and got up instead, pacing the halls of the fortress for a long time before the sun rose.

She did not ever want to become a slave to something again.

While searching for more of her men, Mukuro was met with the last thing she had hoped to see—messengers from the nearby patrol and Enki.

Mukuro's patrol had not been running regularly for weeks. The nearby patrol had been reporting to Enki and had to pick up the slack, and that messenger had made his dissatisfaction painfully clear.

Mukuro bullshitted her way through the explanation to each messenger and insisted that an epidemic had swept through the fortress and many of her men, and she herself, were just recovering. They were reluctant to accept her excuse but she insisted that she was getting the fortress back into working order and the patrol would be back to normal immediately.

By the time she had managed to send them each away, her head was hurting more than ever. Now the place on the back of her head where Shigure had cut open her skull to remove the parasite was aching, too, reminding her again of how the entire situation had affected her. So Mukuro found a tree that looked obscure enough to hide under and sat beneath it, resting for the first time in hours.

She may have well been on the verge of sleep when she heard a shuffling in the grass, and she was moved just slightly, but the smell was familiar enough not to stir her.

Then he said, "Mukuro."

She opened her eye and focused on him drowsily, but something about his presence made her heart tremble after everything she had been through since last night.

She needed him, and here he was.

Mukuro opened her mouth as if she might say something, but her throat was constricted by something familiar and she closed her lips and swallowed. She looked at the ground in the sort of small, frail way a dog accustomed to beatings might.

She needed him. She needed him and she was too afraid to even ask of him.

Hiei seated himself beside her in the grass. "You shouldn't have left this morning." He paused, staring ahead of himself, then clarified: "Too much movement will only cause you unnecessary strain."

"There's too much for me to do to sit around on my ass," Mukuro replied. "I have a responsibility to my men and to the demon world patrol, and I left them all alone for long enough." It sounded rehearsed, like she had said it a million times already. But only in her head.

"What happened was beyond your control." She didn't want to answer. It didn't matter, anyway. "Something's on your mind. What is it?"

Mukuro's chest tightened.

She couldn't think of any way to explain how she felt now, and she didn't want to. She didn't want to think on it at all.

She turned her face away from him and tried. "Do you think that . . ." What was she going to say? ". . . I . . ." She what? ". . . am . . ." What was she afraid to be? ". . . too demanding?"

Was that what she wanted to say? It was as close as she could voice, and even that was too much to bear.

She sounded like an insecure girl. She sounded so stupid. She sounded nothing at all like she wanted to sound, but he had asked her, so she could only be mad at him for thinking that. She wanted to hit him for asking her, for making her say this shit.

She squeezed her eye shut. She was too tired and she just wanted the thoughts to stop.

She wanted him to mock her and get it over with.

"Why should it matter?" he asked, almost flippantly.

It was all she could have expected, yet it didn't make her feel any better.

"If it means so much to you, I don't think that you're demanding," he said. "You aren't terribly eloquent, either."

She couldn't think of anything more to say. She didn't want to have to say anything. It was uncomfortable and it was painful and she wanted to pretend none of it had ever occurred at all.

For whatever reason she thought to look at him, but he was staring right at her, confused and intense, and she looked immediately away again as if burned.

He couldn't see what she felt at all. To him, she probably was just being ridiculous.

Damn, if she could bear to leave him, she would be gone.

"That's all."

"Don't lie to me," Hiei said. "Of course that's not all."

He knew, but she still wasn't ready. She still wasn't sure.

She was still afraid to hope.

"_Stop_," he demanded, as if it would somehow solve everything. "You don't have to fight anymore. You'll only defeat yourself that way."

She thought that she had smothered all her emotions away, and she was ready to accept the silence, but he touched her face, and it burned.

Her worries, fears, and desires crashed down around her.

He eased her to him and she blinked too many times, words tumbling out of her mouth from an inane need to explain herself: "I just need to make things right."

She grasped his arm too tight, fighting down knife points in her throat as she leaned into him, all too easily giving in to this desperation she had promised herself so fervently she would resist.

But it all meant pushing him out of her heart, and with him so close, trying so hard, she could not stand it.

Perhaps he could hate her. But she couldn't lie anymore.

"Fool," Hiei said, quiet but firm as he cupped her cheek in his hand. "You already have."

Mukuro would accept that, but only for how long?

Every thought she entertained now that she was close to him was too much, and she was paralyzed. She could feel the heat of the blood rushing through her, racing with frustration and fear and want.

She leaned into his hand and loosened her grip on his arm, but nothing else.

"Hiei," she whispered.

Hiei watched her for a moment, confusion etched on his face, and finally withdrew his hand.

"Mukuro." Hiei paused. "I don't understand."

He didn't understand, but she wanted him to.

He leaned toward her, lips grazing the corner of her mouth and lingering at her cheek, and her heart fluttered—she found herself grasping for support, her fingers curling around the material of his shirt.

It was enough, and her lips found his, softly, and they fit so well, she thought.

Hiei returned the kiss just as gently, and then drew back.

His eyes reflected a thousand questions—questions she wished she had concrete answers to. But inside, she was just as confused.

"What I want?" she finally asked him. Her gaze wavered a moment, and she felt painfully pinned to her fear—and his expectations—as the words came. "Just your love. . . ."

Hiei watched her for several moments.

Then his mouth slowly curled into a smirk.

"I'll give you much more than that," he said quietly, a subtly dangerous undertone seeping into his voice, and he took Mukuro's face in his hands and kissed her again.

He had taken it in that way.

Mukuro was at once excited and afraid. A part of her couldn't bear for him to see her in this way again, but another part wanted to be able to feel the way she did and share it with him.

She pulled away from his kiss. "Please don't . . . don't think that's all I want from you. Or—even most of it."

Her lips found his neck, the place she remembered taking comfort in once before, and she exhaled. "It feels wrong to want you at all like I do."

Masuyo would be laughing at her. This was what she was made for, she would say.

But Masuyo was wrong. Mukuro was meant only for Hiei.

That was why she had sought him out time and again. She could never harbor these feelings—this desire, fear, happiness, and, strangest of all, love—for any other soul.

Hiei put his arms around her. "Don't explain yourself," he said. "Touch me."

Something in his words disrupted her completely.

She pulled back. "I _have _to explain myself, Hiei. I can't just pretend that this is nothing to me," she said, more sharply than intended. "My whole life I've hated all of it, and I can't be okay with this unless you know how I feel."

She needed him to understand her now.

She couldn't be alone with it anymore, to yet again hide her fragility and only grow bitterer.

She _needed_ to trust him.

His expression darkened. "_Nothing_?" he said. "How stupid do you think I am? How could you presume that I don't understand what this means for you—for both of us?"

It was only getting worse. It was only falling apart.

She leaned away from him.

He took a breath. "Fuck," he muttered, hands grasping her sides. "What . . ." He fumbled for words. "What do you feel?"

Mukuro felt angry at him, but more than that, at herself.

She was the problem. She was always the problem, and she would always be the reason that everything around her was always destroyed.

_Eri_.

_Shun._

_Ka—_

_No. No more._

"_Fuck_!" she shrieked, and her fist found the tree next to them. "Fuck! I don't _want _this anymore!"

_Look at you, you stupid fucking cunt. This is all you can do. This is all you deserve._

She grew still, staring at the tree.

"What do you want from me?" She looked at him, tears suddenly blurring her sight. "Do you want me to make it better? Because I _can't_." She breathed. "I want to, but I just . . . I can't be whatever it is you want."

"You're already what I want, idiot!" he shouted. "You're the only reason I stay in this ridiculous place day after day, and it's certainly not to watch you blubber like a hormonal teenage girl every time something remotely good happens!"

He stopped her.

He reminded her how stupid she was being.

Emotions were never something suited to her—even now, when it mattered, she couldn't untangle them. Her inability to cope had always been more dangerous than the problem itself.

He was not here to listen to her whine—and she was not either. Why had she even started?

He looked into the distance, and his voice grew quiet. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to turn you down?" he said. "But even now, it seems that no matter how hard I try, all I'm able to give you is more disappointment."

Sighing, Hiei looked at her again and said, "What do _you_ want, Mukuro?"

She was done trying to make him understand, because it was not even important enough to bother.

"You're right," she said. "But I don't know what I want. Maybe that's the problem. I haven't even thought about it, I can't stop thinking about everything that I don't want."

She looked up at him, but there was nothing on her face. Nothing more she wanted to show.

She could not open herself up to the pain again.


	13. Moving Forward

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter thirteen  
>"Moving Forward"<p>

* * *

><p>She was holding together, because that was what she needed to do.<p>

She felt safer there. She had no reason to be angry at herself, or feel at all, so she kept herself busy. There was less room for thought there. Less reason for him—

No. No him. Only her. She was good at this. She was good at leaving things behind. Moving forward.

She had no reason to stay behind.

Mukuro stepped into Shigure's lab, and there Kirin was. He seemed happy to see her.

She regarded him stoically.

"Kirin," she addressed him. "I want you to come patrol with me."

"Of course, my lord," he said, bowing his head slightly. "How many of your men should I gather?"

"None," she said. Then Mukuro simply turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kirin to do nothing but follow.

They walked a considerable time in silence, but then Mukuro said, "I spoke to the messengers from Enki and the nearby patrol unit. I told them that we were taken with an illness. That is what you should confirm if you ever speak to them."

"Yes, my lord," he said, and they continued walking.

—.—

The two of them stood on the patrol vehicle when Mukuro said, "I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did."

"Of course not, my lord," he replied from where he stood dutifully beside her. "Nobody would have wished for any of it to happen."

Something in his presence—maybe in the way he still called her his lord—softened her just barely.

She shifted, fingers lacing in front of her.

"Kirin," she spoke gently. "How do you feel about it?"

"I am . . . relieved that it has ended and that there were few casualties. And that you were not one of them, my lord."

When he said that, for the briefest moment, Mukuro thought she wished that she was.

Kirin was not nearly as affected by this as Mukuro and Hiei had been. He had less on his mind, and that was less for Mukuro to attach to. Yet it was only a minuscule comfort.

"We were lucky," she replied. She didn't mean it.

"Yes," Kirin agreed. "There were moments that I was certain that none of us would see the end of it. I am . . . thankful that I was wrong." He paused. "You've fought too hard to be bested by a mere insect."

He was right. She had beaten it.

She had won, and things should have been well, but they were not. Mukuro did not want to think because she, again, felt like a fool. She was not sure whether she was angry at Hiei or not because she was not sure whether he was right to make her feel so damnable for the emotions she had.

But she knew that the only way to fix it was to stop feeling—to go back to knowing that trying to place her thoughts in someone else was foolish.

She knew that was not what he wanted. Now, though, that was all she could do not to hate him and herself.

"I've been an idiot, Kirin," she told him. "I allowed what happened to hurt me. Now I'm suffering for it." The grip of her hands was hurting. "It's stupid to become involved."

He was the one who had made her feel safe enough, he was the one who had opened her up, and now the emotions she had slowly come to embrace needed to be shoved back in for him.

"It can be painful," he conceded. "But it is far easier to survive in this world knowing that you mean something to someone else."

She did not want to answer him. There was no good response—it would all be too much. She couldn't promise herself that she would try again. She had no good reason to believe that anything would be better, no matter how much it could or should have been.

She was not ready to open the door for more pain. For most of her life she had not been. She would rather destroy with that as her intent from the start—then she could not regret it.

"Relationships with allies aren't the same as those one has with their opponents," he continued after a time. "In battle, a fighter aims to protect their vulnerabilities and hide their motives, while with their comrades they would do just the opposite." She saw him watching her from the corner of her eye.

"But if I may say so, my lord, I also find both circumstances strikingly similar. Even someone with great skill and power will find himself at the mercy of an unworthy opponent if he is driven by fear and doubt, and those same feelings will only serve to kill a disadvantaged fighter more quickly. Only those with the passion and tenacity to pick themselves back up despite the pain will eventually earn their victory."

—.—

Mukuro could not sleep.

What Kirin had said to her earlier that day had made her think—and it made her wish to stop fighting.

There were so many things that she did not know. She could not know how Hiei felt and what he thought of her before and now. She could not know if the two of them were even capable of being close without having to battle each other in fists or in words.

But she did know that she wanted to know—that she needed to know.

She wanted to change. She wanted to fight what was wrong, as she had never truly done before. To fight for what she wanted for herself despite the bad, as she had never thought she could do.

It could not simply be over. Not after everything they had said and done—not after knowing that it was her own simple fear that had caused more pain for them.

She hadn't the faith to trust him or herself, and she wanted that he could fix it, but he could not do anything more than be himself.

Mukuro fell into sleep when one of her pillows was in millions of shreds and strewn around her.

—.—

She woke when she felt him next to her.

She knew before she was even awake that it was him. She could never mistake him—his silence, and the way he would lay next to her.

He was here.

Mukuro was still for a moment, simply allowing herself to revel in the fact that he was beside her.

Then she turned to him, and she turned him to her.

Mukuro tugged at the cloth covering his third eye, and it regarded her almost curiously. She looked at him.

Her thoughts were fractured, burning with a myriad of images and emotions even as she attempted to speak clearly to him.

_I was afraid. I've been afraid._

_I was afraid to trust, and afraid to admit that to you. I've been afraid, now, to show you what I feel._

_It seems like most everything I do is because I'm afraid of something._

_But it was not that way with you. I simply wanted to be with you—I have always wanted that. I wanted to see if, maybe, we could stop fearing and stop defending._

_I did not want to fear you._

_But then this happened, and now I don't think I know for sure what I am anymore. I worried I have changed into that thing—or I worried that maybe that was who I've always been. I worried that even if it wasn't, that is what you would see in me._

_I wanted to give in, but there was too much I couldn't know that you really did believe and I couldn't be happy with that._

_I needed to know, and I had no idea how—I've come apart._

_I'm probably lost on you now._

Her face burned.

_But I could promise to stop. I could stop caring about what I am, and what I feel, because I know_—_it destroys everything._

She knew what she was thinking was wrong, but it couldn't end. He could see it all now—all her frustration and anger and desire to simply never see him look at her that way again.

As if they were hopeless.

_But that's not what I want. The more I try to change, the more I'll only hate us both. I want you to know me and reject me if you have to. But I can't go without knowing, and without you knowing, anymore._

_That's all. . . . You can sleep now._

But he lay there frozen, his breathing labored.

"No!" he finally shouted, voice strained. "Don't hide from me."

Then he sank again into the Jagan's connection, and his thoughts echoed clearly in her mind.

_I want all of you, _he said to her. _I'm just so tired of us having to worry._

_I'm tired, too,_ she told him. _I'm tired of being afraid. Because what that means is that I doubted you. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I want to be with you now, no matter what happens._ Mukuro leaned to him and she kissed him. _ I hope you can forgive me._

Hiei accepted her kiss and then drew back, regarding her warily. Cautiously, his hand found her waist, and he studied her face through the darkness. _Be certain._

Mukuro could feel his apprehension now, feel his thoughts, and she knew that she was the cause. She had confused him beyond belief, he told her, but he didn't blame her.

Despite her intense desire to change his worry, regretting ever having doubted him, something about his concern assured her that she was ready.

She watched him for several moments.

_I swear,_ she told him, and because she felt that she, for once, truly meant it, she could not help but smile.

"I was—"

_I was afraid, too, _he told her. _It feels empty without you._

He pulled her into his arms.

"It's all right now, Mukuro," he said, and buried his face in her neck.

From nowhere, his words—all of them—felt as if they were cracking a layer around Mukuro that she had not known she had wrapped about herself, and the reasons for regret and surety disappeared.

She did not want to be told to fix it.

She had only wanted to know that it was okay that she did not know how.

That it was okay that she was flawed—that she might hurt for a long time.

The tears clung to her eyelashes.

"Would it be okay to tell you that I'm not all right?" she asked him, her hands—unusually cold—finding his back. "That I need you?"

"Tell me anything," he whispered, pressing his body closer. "Tell me what you want me to do."


	14. Depth of Feeling

**What Runs Deeper**

_a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi  
><em>

chapter fourteen  
>"Depth of Feeling"<p>

* * *

><p>Mukuro burned, then.<p>

She was amazed at him—how he could be so dangerous and so gentle, able to heal the deepest of her wounds despite the immeasurable ones he had inflicted in his life. She would always be amazed.

Her flesh hand found the back of his neck, and she threaded her fingers in his hair. "Hiei," she breathed, overwhelmed with too many emotions to comprehend.

She wanted him.

He discovered her ear with his mouth, catching the lobe lightly in his teeth, and his face was so warm against hers as he nuzzled her cheek, her jaw.

For a moment, she was timid as she felt his hands play over her back, finding the bare skin beneath her shirt.

"Mukuro," he murmured to her.

Then she followed her impulse, her legs drawing him nearer to her as her hands drifted lower, touching him as he had her. But then she changed, pulling at his shirt as she sat up, taking him with her.

He was so close, and she never wanted it to cease.

But he grasped her shoulders and held her away from him, eyes intent on her face.

"Mukuro," he said again.

"Hiei," she replied, suddenly worried. "I—do you . . . want to . . ." she trailed off, fear taking her; had she made an assumption? Had she been wrong?

But his expression relaxed. "To make love?" he asked quietly. "What a silly question." He released her shoulders and in one easy motion pulled his shirt over his head.

Mukuro's eye widened.

He had not wanted to stop—no, he wanted to continue.

He touched her hair, her face, bringing her near again as he tugged at her own clothing, attempting to remove the material concealing her torso.

"I'm . . . glad that you're here," he said.

"I am, too," she answered him, and her shirt came away.

They lay back down and her mouth found his again, the remnants of her fear dissipating as her hands clutched at his waist.

He eased her onto her back, and he was over her. It felt strangely familiar, in a faraway place, but none of it was remotely similar to the present moment. The depth of what she felt—lingering somewhere in the eyes that looked down at her now—both drowned and cradled every bit of her.

Mukuro thought for a moment before she ultimately decided what she should do, and her hands found her own pants, lifting her body as she pulled them down and away, leg at a time.

She would reveal herself entirely, of her own will, bare beneath him and offering—giving now and not taking.

Hiei's touches progressed: his lips on her face—his hand, extraordinarily hot, now moving up her stomach, over her ribs—

Mukuro breathed in tightly as his fingers brushed over her nipple, arching to his touch almost involuntarily.

There was no more reason to pretend she did not wish for this. She grasped him tighter, her fingers bearing into his hips, but she would not push him to reveal himself—rather, her metal hand rested on his shoulder, the other on his stomach; then, it wandered lower.

Hiei froze, the smallest noise escaping him.

Then, in a sudden flood of apparent desperation, his hands flew to his belts, and he unclasped each one, hurriedly shoving away his pants and kicking them off behind him.

He was bare now, with nothing to press against her skin but his.

They had been so once under far different circumstances, but now it meant more than ever before. Now they shared far more—now they shared everything.

Mukuro's fingers caressed him slowly, and she felt a strange breed of selfless pleasure at the way he moved against her hand.

He touched against her as she continued—inevitably from their closeness—and she moaned just barely, her lips grazing his jaw with affection.

Mukuro was enjoying their nearness—enjoying what she could do to, and for, him—when his hand slipped between her legs, and she released a small cry of both surprise and rapture as his fingers slid over her.

Mukuro had never felt this before. The gift of him was nigh unbearable to entertain, much less experience.

"_Hiei,_" she groaned, lifting to his touch even as she moved her fingers along him.

He said her name, the movement of his fingers increasing until it fell away entirely, and the haphazard kiss he pressed to her lips told her how lost in feeling he was.

Mukuro did not stop, and Hiei continued to move as her grip intensified, the both of them beginning to lose themselves somewhere between bliss and desire.

But Mukuro wanted to go further, and she found her legs drawing back, threatening to enclose him while her touch receded and she drew him nearer to her.

She had wanted him always, and nothing now would take it; she was nervous, but more than that, she was ready.

"Don't stop," she told him. "I want you to have me."

"No," he said gruffly. He caught her retreating hand in his own, briefly squeezing it before placing it upon his shoulder. "We're going to have each other now."

Hiei sank into her, and Mukuro rose to meet him.

Nothing about this was as familiar as she might have thought, and everything about it was bewildering. It was an entirely new experience—not only in the major differences of this act in itself but everything that it, that he, made her feel.

Mukuro had never expected it to be like this, and the way he felt inside of her and around her, so warm and loving, nearly stole all her strength away.

She never again wanted to imagine a life without this.

She moved in his grasp, wrapping him up in every way that she could conceive, the tips of her fingers bearing into his shoulders, his back. She sighed his name at the sensation, barely comprehensible, but her body was unconcerned—if only he would not stop.

She needed nothing more.

His tongue slicked over her throat and Mukuro thought that she could be no more smothered in sensations, tangled as she was, but that was when he bit into her.

Her cry was as instinctive as it was raw. It did not hurt—it layered upon the multitude of other feelings she was experiencing and imprinted in her the marvel that was completely and distinctly him.

It was amazing, but it was even more than that; it woke a desire in her that spurned her nails into his skin, tightening her around him with a growing, uninhibited desperation. Her mouth sought him out: his shoulder, his throat, his ear, finding them all in turn with her lips and tongue and teeth.

He moaned to her and Mukuro could not stop her smile—she enjoyed so much being the one to know him in this way, and that she had given him this, had shared it with him.

"Don't stop_,_" he said to her, and she knew that he spoke what she had been thinking. In each and every way they did not want this to stop, to break away from every new and phenomenal feeling they had begun to discover.

Hiei pushed into her so roughly that she just barely had stifled her outcry, and then it was all she could do to keep herself from completely tearing into him, wildly, with every bit of need that she felt.

They only wanted to know how far they could go before they would break.

"More," he growled.

Maybe a while ago, in a totally different world, Mukuro would not have liked this demand—but now, she only felt it echoing off of the walls of her own soul, and met it.

The bed under them might have disappeared or else they were floating, but Mukuro did not care; she pushed back at him, hard, and suddenly as the thought had come to her, Mukuro had him on his back and she was experiencing for the first time in her life a position she had never had the pleasure of knowing.

She bit into him, her nails leaving passionate red lines on his chest; she lurched back as she came down on him again. She could only touch and feel, a trance comparable to one she had felt many times in her life before but yet entirely different.

He was in her so deep—her body, her heart, her whole being—maybe they were the same, after all.

She did not know what she was doing—each second only made that clearer—but she could not bring herself to care. It was too much to imagine that there might be a right or a wrong to what they were doing now. Terms such as that did not even apply here; they had no foundation in a place like this.

There was no winning and losing anymore, only feeling and being, this pliancy and resistance, and all of it pleasing.

But Mukuro did know that they could not stay here much longer. She did not think it—she felt it, though it nearly drowned in everything else she was feeling, in the way she had lost herself to something so beyond her that she would not have guessed it existed even in a million years.

She moved, instinctively, naturally as anything had ever been for her, a strain in her throat as she cried out his name yet it was only a murmur in her ears.

_Hiei . . ._

He was the one: who had given her this, who she could feel so well, who she needed more than anything, who she loved.

All at once everything seemed to morph, the experience reaching its pinnacle, and Hiei shuddered as fervidly and yet delicately as she had ever felt him, his heat melting low in her belly.

Mukuro ceased moving her hips and grew still, amazed at the feel of him in her as she looked down at him, so exposed. She felt almost guilty for stripping him of so much that was essential to him: his defenses and his restraint. But just as that thought had only begun, her next startled her out of it—the fact that he somehow saw enough in her to allow it all.

She leaned in, her lips brushing over his face. She felt a sudden chill.

"Thank you," she said. "For believing in me."

"Consider it payback," he said, his arms coming around her.

She wanted to ask him what it was payback for, but she did not. For now, she would only imagine as he kissed her.

"Lay with me."

She could do that—at this point she would not have even considered doing otherwise.

Mukuro wanted to stay with him. The way that she felt with him—the way he made her feel—was more than she could bear to lose. At least not now, not until she could soak it in and attempt to understand it all, imprint its taste in her mind and her memory so that maybe she could return to this place and hold it closely to her heart no matter what happened in the future.

Mukuro blinked quickly, turning her face in his hair, her mouth finding the softness of his ear, and she wrapped her lips around it, gently, then released.

"I" was what she was going to say, but her throat closed, and she shut her mouth.

Saying it might have been too much, she felt, as if the magic of whatever spell they were under might be broken by the reality of it; as if, somehow, this beautiful and delicate thing would fall apart by the weight of her words.

He rested beside her, and Mukuro had stayed awake for a time, watching him in the darkness until he fell away into sleep before her eyes settled on the ceiling.

Was what they had done truly real? It had to be, all of it. Would everything be different now?

She knew that she did not regret it, but the harsh truth in it all frightened her. She had never known this side of herself, or this side of him. Now it was something that was inevitable. Could she handle the responsibility of it? Could she learn how to cope with a life so different that she hadn't the first idea of what to do with it?

Could she learn to live with happiness, with love, with him?

Mukuro looked at Hiei again.

She wanted to try.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you so much for reading! We decided to remove the epilogue and, instead, make a blog for our excess writings and other inside information that may interest you! Go to revealtherest on blogspot to check it out!


End file.
